Ultimatum
by pop-pop-bananas
Summary: This is a story about the things you refuse to believe, the things you are too late to remember, and the choices that destroy you in the process. This is not a love story. TomxLuna
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Hello! I wasn't going to post this so early – I wanted to wait until I had enough written to be able to publish a chapter a day – but a virus is threatening to delete the whole thing from my computer until I load up it now. So... ta-da! This is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. I hope you enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter One: Prologue**

Hermione had become a bit of a bother recently. Due to the proximity of the Death Eaters and the permanent risk of an attack at any moment, she was always in need of vast piles of library books for research and preparation. That wasn't a problem – it was good to be prepared. However, when she insisted that _Luna_ go and fetch the books for her because she was too busy snogging Ronald, _then_ it was slightly irritating.

Luna set the pile of books she had acquired on the floor, and then stood on top of them to reach a thick volume on the top shelf. She had used to think herself quite tall, but since her fourth year, she'd stopped growing completely, and everyone else had quickly passed her by. The only one still smaller than her was Ginny Weasley – a good friend, but likewise tied up in the Chosen One. Sometimes Luna wondered if she should be done with it and ask out Neville Longbottom, who Ginny said was very keen on her...

She grabbed the book that she was stretching for, and then climbed back down; she glanced quickly over her shoulder to check Madam Pince hadn't seen the '_outrageous abuse of literature' _of using books as a stepping ladder. The coast was clear.

Luna piled them up in her arms, towering far over her head, and moved through the library corridors to the next spot. She halted beside a large window with a view of Hagrid's Hut, her book heap swaying dangerously, and she paused to look out at the Hogwarts grounds before continuing Hermione's quest for knowledge. There were two books here – one of the middles shelf and one on the top shelf. She took the lower tome first, and tucked it under her left arm, before attempting to get the second. She strained sideways, wobbling precariously on her mountain of books.

Just a bit further...

Her fingers brushed the spine of the book...

A little more...

At that moment, a yellow butterfly flashed in front of her, and Luna's attention was caught – just as she overbalanced.

She threw her arms out to cling to safety, but that only succeeded in bringing down thousands of books around her as she plummeted to the floor, a yelp of alarm being the only sound from her lips as she fell.

There was a sickening _crack_ as she hit her head on a low shelf - and she knew no more.

**xxx**


	2. Admonitio

**A/N: **Hello everybody... This is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. I hope you enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Two: Admonitio**

_There was a sickening __crack__ as she hit her head on a low shelf - a book hit her squarely in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her – pain exploded through her mind and through her torso – and she knew no more._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

She slowly opened her eyes.

She was very confused, and in rather a great deal of pain. There was a throbbing behind her left eye, and she felt sick. Her fingers moved to her temple, expecting to find blood there, but came away clean.

_**Luna**_**.**

She sat up, wincing as she did so, and looked around. She was in an empty, fairly dim corridor of what looked like a library, between two very tall bookcases.

_**Books**_**.**

She frowned. Had she been reading? Perhaps she'd dozed up, fallen asleep... then why did she ache so much?

_**Butterfly.**_

Well, that made no sense whatsoever. Luna looked around again. She couldn't see any butterflies. It was too dark for them, she thought, and quite cold, too. Maybe it was winter. She strained to remember if it was winter. She had a vague memory of warmth on her skin, so it could be summer, she supposed...

_**Falling**_**.**

Luna sat there for a long time, not moving, just thinking, just struggling to remember something. She only realised the passing of what could easily have been an hour when a house-elf came pottering around the corner with a dust-cloth.

"Oh!" the elf shrieked, jumping a foot into the air. "Oh, oh, Philly is terribly sorry, Miss, Philly didn't mean to – oh, oh, bad Philly, no-"

_**Green eyes like tennis balls. Bad Dobby. Woollen socks and freedom. Kitchens. Dumbledore.**_

"Dumbledore," she said slowly.

"Dumbledore?" the little house-elf, who Luna guessed to be named Philly, repeated cautiously, observing her with huge dark eyes. "Does Miss want to see Dumbledore?"

"Is he a person?"

"Oh yes, Professor Dumbledore is a teacher here, Miss."

"Well then, yes, please." Luna got carefully to her feet, blinking groggily.

"Is Miss hurt?"

"I'm... not sure." She put a hand once more to her head, which, though intact, still hurt badly. "I think so."

"Oh, then Miss must go immediately to Hospital Wing-"

_**Hospital Wing. Long, winding corridors. Stairs. Paintings. Grounds. Forest. Castle. Hogwarts.**_

"-and Dumbledore will see her there – quickly, Philly will take Miss there. This way, please." The little elf, who Luna now noticed was wearing a ragged old cravat and a tea towel, hurried off into the distance, and warily, she followed.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Luna looked around from the Hospital Wing bed on which she lay. She couldn't see the matron, Madame Jones, who was a skinny woman with a lean face and ginger-blonde hair scraped tightly back off her face. There were just rows and rows of cleanly-made white cot-beds. Beside her, on a scrubbed bedside table, there was a jug of slightly wilted flowers, and a book.

_**Books**_**.**

Though she was quite sick of books, as she was sure that they were the reason she couldn't remember anything, she picked it up and inspected it. It was a novel, ironically titled, _Remembering_, by an author called Christopher Sawyer. On the back, the Daily Prophet declared it an incredibly poignant tale. She didn't particularly care for the plot, which the blurb described as a journey of self-discovery, but she flipped to the first page anyway.

"Now, dear Agnes, what on Earth is going on here?" an important voice sounded out, stirring Luna from the depths of an uninteresting prologue.

"Oh, I do _not_ even know," said the rich Welsh accent of Madame Jones. "A house-elf just arrived with this girl in tow – dazed, dressed in the scantiest clothes I have ever laid eyes on, and exclaiming that she's hurt."

"Well, is she?"

"Is she what?"

"Hurt, Agnes, my dear."

"Oh, no, not at all!" the matron clucked. "You see, that was the peculiar thing! I would examine her and find naught wrong, and yet she would flinch as though in great pain. Very peculiar indeed. Though I do believe her to have a concussion – she was telling me about some sort of gargle."

_Nargles, actually. And it __is__ dangerous to keep tulips near windows._

She still wasn't sure how she knew this.

Footsteps moved closer. Luna set the book back onto the bedside table, sat upright, pulling the covers up to her chin over her denim shorts and violet T-shirt – neither of which she had considered scanty, but were apparently so. A tall man with a long auburn beard appeared with a calm expression on his face. His eyes were twinkling, curious, the deepest, most never-ending blue she had ever seen.

_**Dumbledore. Grey beard, purple suit. Candles. Podium. Marble tomb. Tower. Falling.**_

"Are you supposed to be ginger?" she asked. For some reason, it seemed unusual. Out of place.

"I have asked myself that question many a time," he replied, smiling serenely. "My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, but – as you were looking for me – I suspect that you already aware of who I am."

"...I'm Luna," she offered, not really sure where to start.

He was silent, patient.

"There was a yellow butterfly," she added. "I remember the butterfly. In a library. Maybe it wasn't a library. I'm not sure. But I saw a butterfly, and then... I don't know. I think that I fell."

"You fell?"

"My head hurts, you see."

"What were you doing in the library, Luna?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Getting books." She strained to remember more.

_**Bushy brown hair. And another redhead. She didn't like him much. Books. Lots of books**__._

"_For _someone," Luna said. "They weren't my books. I didn't even know what they were about. They were for a friend."

"A friend outside of the school?"

_**School. Lessons. Teachers. Other students. Mockery. "LOONY!" Learning.**_

"No. A student."

Dumbledore and Madame Jones exchanged a quick, concerned look. They didn't speak. Luna read their faces – they were confused. Something that she had said didn't make sense. Luna felt quite worried. Maybe she was remembering things wrong.

"It's the summer holidays," Dumbledore informed her gently. "There are no students here presently."

"Oh." Luna furrowed her brow. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"But I'm a student, too," she told him eagerly. She was sure of that much.

A paper-thin line creased between Dumbledore's eyebrows in bewilderment. "I don't think so."

"Honestly, I am!" She screwed her face up, trying to recall something – anything – about this school, about her time here, about her being a student here.

_**School. "LOONY!" Herbology. She liked Herbology. Plants. Animals. Birds. A bird. A bird.**_

"The bird," she said, drawing out the words slowly.

"Excuse me?"

"The bird." She repeated it again. "I remember... I remember the _bird_."

_**A bird. Bronze on blue. R... R... Ravenclaw. On the top floor. Corridors. Stairs. A statue of a graceful woman. A view of the forest.**_

"Ravenclaw," she told him, and suddenly realised how to prove herself. "The West Tower, on the eighth floor. There's a door with an eagle knocker, and you have to answer a question to get in."

Dumbledore eyed her carefully. "Accurate." He just looked at her silently for a moment. "How old are you?"

_Ha_! This one, she knew the answer to. "Seventeen," she said, her pride at remembering something ringing strongly through her clear voice. "My birthday was in June," she added, just to show off how good her memory was.

"Seventh year, then..." Dumbledore pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from thin air and began writing down. "As you seem so adamant that you are a student here, I will discuss with Headmaster Dippet the matter of getting you a place here while we sort out what to do with you – though I must warn you that chances are slim. We do not let just anyone into this school." His eyes moved to find hers. "You do have a wand, is that correct?"

_**Wand. Magic. Spells. Lessons. Tucking it into her back pocket to be out of the way while she stretched for library books.**_

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes widening. She rolled onto one side and reached behind her. There she found a wand that was slightly bent (probably from being sat on), which she held out for Dumbledore to see, her face lighting up in happiness. "Here it is."

"Good. That takes care of one thing." Dumbledore continued writing. "You will need to undertake some tests to allow us to confirm whether your education is far enough for your year-group... and, if Dippet accepts you here, I presume you want to remain in Ravenclaw – or would you prefer to be re-Sorted?"

_**Sorted. Sorting Hat. Gryffindor Ravenclaw Hufflepuff Slytherin. Red blue yellow green.**_

"I'd prefer to stay in Ravenclaw, please."

"Very well. Headmaster Dippet is away on a course at the moment, but I expect he will return within two or three days, and then I will be able to tell you whether you can stay here," Dumbledore told her. "You can stay here – there is a Room of Requirements where you can live for now." He looked as though he was going to pack away his parchment and quill, but then paused. "Oh – and your name?"

"Luna." She frowned. She had already told him this... hadn't she? Was she remembering things that weren't real?

"No, your surname."

"Oh." She couldn't remember. And, as little as she knew right now, she knew that it wasn't a good idea to be an anonymous, to not have a name, to not be someone. She glanced sideways.

_Remembering_, by Christopher Sawyer.

"Luna Christopher," she invented quickly, smiling widely at him.

"Thank you, Luna. That will be all." Dumbledore stood, tucking the parchment and quill into a pocket. "I have something I must now attend to, but I will summon Philly – you remember the house-elf that found you? – and she will show you where you will staying."

"Okay. Thanks, sir."

Luna Christopher sat back on her pillow. Her new name had a nice ring to it, whether or not it was her real name.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

As Dumbledore had predicted, Headmaster Dippet returned within three days, and, though suspicious, had accepted Luna into the school, much to her relief. However, he had thought it appropriate for her to stay in the Room of Requirement until the start of school, when she could join Ravenclaw with the others.

In her spare time – of which she had a lot - she had taken to wandering endlessly around the school, searching for anything that might help her remember. When she wasn't doing this, she was usually found reading in her room, or helping in the greenhouses, which she enjoyed a lot. The Herbology teacher, Professor Callick, a tiny but intimidating woman with a lot of curly black hair, was already in the school, and Luna hoped that she could build up a positive relationship with someone here so that if she didn't make friends, then she could at least talk to the teachers.

Today was a nerve-wracking day for her, as she had to take more of the tests to judge whether her education was up to scratch. While many things around the school had jogged her memory, she was still concerned that there would be very important things which she couldn't remember. So far, on the written papers, she felt that she had done very well, but today was the practical.

She knocked five times (her signature knock – a long one, three short ones, and another long one) on the door of the Great Hall, which had been set up for her examinations.

"Come in," said the voice of Headmaster Dippet, and Luna pushed through the doors.

She couldn't see either Dippet or Dumbledore. As far as she could see, she was standing in a very dark, endless space. She lifted a hand in front of her face. She could barely see it.

"Hello?" she called.

"Miss Christopher," said Dippet. "Do you have your wand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you prepared?"

"For what?"

"The exam, Miss Christopher."

"Oh! Yes, sir."

"Wonderful. Simply respond to the challenges as you see fit. If you cannot progress, simply say so, and we will assist you." Dippet's voice paused. "August 24th, 1943. Luna Christopher. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." It paused again. "Miss Christopher, you may begin."

Luna wandered forwards. She would have surveyed her surroundings, but she couldn't see anything. Then, all of a sudden, a boy appeared in front of her, and fired a ray of blue light at her. She quickly pulled her wand from behind her ear and fired back. Sparks danced as they duelled, fireworks in the air, flames lighting the pale peaks of her face. The boy disappeared – the walls imploded towards her – she cried out, pointing above her head, and a glowing orange spiderweb appeared that stuck the walls in place and stopped them.

Then the walls were gone.

Animals came scuttling towards her. "_Lumos maximus_!" she shouted, closing her eyes, and the whole room filled with a blinding white light. When it faded, her eyelids were stinging, but she continued, swiping the stunned creatures with spells, green and pink and scarlet and silver. Some of the curses bounced off, but she quickly realised what they were immune to and moved onto a different spell. They were easily disabled. At last they were all lying on their backs, and then they too disappeared into nothingness.

There was a harsh rattling noise, rushing towards her – and then it stopped. There was an awkward, empty silence in the room while Luna waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

"_Revellius_," she said, pointing her wand at where the noise had come from. She detected something, fairly large. It seemed also to be lying in wait.

She waited longer. Nothing happened. She cast a spell into the darkness – and then another, and another. Still nothing. She simply didn't know what to do. Maybe it was something she had forgotten. Maybe this was some great protocol, and she had just failed.

Ten minutes past before she admitted defeat, and she called out, "Headmaster Dippet? I don't know what to do." She felt very ashamed of herself – a Ravenclaw, too. She should have known this. Of course there would be something that she couldn't remember.

"It's a Boggart," Dippet replied. There was a tone in his voice that Luna couldn't determine. It seemed like awe.

"Oh." She turned back. "_Ridikulus_."

_CRACK._

Relief washed over her. She hadn't forgotten. She remembered Boggarts. She _remembered_ them. And she also remembered amazement on the other Ravenclaws' faces, on the teacher's face, when they realised that she didn't fear. She just didn't find anything all that scary.

A spotlight fell on a cauldron in the middle of the room, with assorted ingredients around them.

"In your own time," Dippet's disembodied voice called out, "please assemble Veritaserum. Select your ingredients from those available to you."

She got to work, cutting and grinding and stirring and powdering, turning the heat up with a non-verbal flick of her wand, letting it simmer, stirring anti-clockwise, crunching beetle legs as a short-cut to help the potion oxidise more swiftly, stirring anti-clockwise again, turning the heat down and letting it bubble for ten minutes before adding the fermented boomslang skin.

"All done, sir," she said, quite proudly, and she stood up.

The cauldron disappeared. Then a table appeared in front of her.

"Transfigure it into a Labrador, please."

_**Labrador. Dragon. Egg. Gold. Water. Mermaids. Dancing. Drunkenness. Quidditch. Maze. Death.**_

And, for another reason, she thought of the date.

_August 24__th__, 1943._

_Is it supposed to be 1943?_ She frowned, thinking hard. She didn't know why she doubted what was clearly a fact – after all, the year didn't change in the course of a day. It was quite bizarre. Yet, when she thought of the date, she was certain that it wasn't right.

And then:

_December 31__st__, 1926._

Even stranger. What was that? 1926? Was it supposed to be 1926? No. That wasn't right, either. Not 1943, and _definitely_ not 1926. So why had that second date come into her, with some unknown connection to today's date?

1926. That was... seventeen years ago, from today in 1943.

What was that all about? Her brain really was rather peculiar sometimes, she couldn't help but muse to herself.

"Miss Christopher?" Dippet called, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Sorry, sir," she said, and continued with the examination.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Luna was in the Herbology greenhouses, tending to a venomous flytrap that she was particularly fond of, when Philly, the lovely house-elf who had first found her in the library, turned up with a letter for her.

It read:

_Miss Christopher,_

_Please come to my office as soon as possible. Immediately, rather. The entrance is the two gargoyles on the fourth floor. The password is 'amorvolo nos sepelio'._

_-Headmaster Armando Dippet_

She frowned. She didn't understand why Dippet would give her the password to his office. It was very strange. All the same, she didn't question his authority; she set down her tools, dusted off her hands, and set off for the castle.

A pang of concern struck through her. Perhaps Dippet was summoning her to tell her that there had been a mistake, that she couldn't be accepted into Hogwarts, that she simply wasn't good enough. She wasn't sure what she would do if he said that. She wasn't sure of anything.

Or maybe, she contemplated as she reached the gargoyles, it was good news.

"_Amorvolo nos sepelio_," she told them. They slid apart begrudgingly, and she made her way up a winding staircase. There was a door at the top, on which she knocked five times, as usual – one long, two short, one long.

"Miss Christopher?" a voice rang from within.

"Yes, sir."

"Come in."

She pushed through the door and closed it behind her, looking around the office calmly.

_**Bird. Orange. Red. Fire. Fawkes. Healed a friend. Helped a friend.**_

"Prompt," Dippet muttered. "Good. _Excellent_. Please, sit down." He gestured with one hand towards a hard-backed seat in front of his desk. "I have something I would like to discuss with you."

Luna sat.

"I understand that you are to be in Ravenclaw," he continued. "I only realise now how very appropriate that placement was. To be frank, your entrance exams were... extraordinary." He picked up a sheaf of paper and leafed through it. "If these were your NEWTs, these would be _very_ high indeed. Herbology – _full marks_. Very impressive. Your practical work was also extremely impressive... which brings me around to what it was that I wished to discuss with you."

"Yes, sir?" Luna asked, curious.

"I will get straight to the point. I was in fact wondering, Miss Christopher, if you would like to accept the honour and responsibility of Head Girl." Dippet's eyes were fixed, calm and serious, on her face.

"_Oh_." She considered this. "That's very nice of you."

"As it stands, excluding you, we have two candidates for Head Girl who we were struggling to decide between, and both are in Slytherin House, which we felt would be inappropriate, due to the fact that the selected Head Boy is also in Slytherin House – we did not want to risk any bias or injustice, obviously," Dippet explained. "Not only would your place in Ravenclaw even out those statistics – though there was another Ravenclaw candidate with good results – but you have the best results out of the girls who applied. The exams I put you through were essentially the higher-level O.W.L exams; I thought they might be too difficult and that I would have to offer some leniency regarding any poor results, but you were simply excellent."

"Well." Luna tilted her head. "I suppose I accept. Thank you."

"Fantastic," said Dippet, looking over some more papers on his desk. "If you so desire, of course, you may move your belongings from the Room of Requirements to your new quarters. It is located on the seventh floor, down the hallway from the Gryffindors. You will find a dead end down to the left of the portrait of the Fat Lady, but a password will cause a door to appear in the stone which leads you to the Head common room. There are two flights of stairs in the common room. The left leads you to your chamber, and the other to those of the Head Boy." Dippet surveyed her. "Will you be able to remember that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good memory. Excellent. Fantastic." He fixed his glasses on his nose. "The password, I believe, is '_admonitio'_. Yes, I'm quite sure of that... Well, congratulations, Miss Christopher. You may proceed to that task now..."

It was clearly a dismissal; he didn't want her in his office anymore. She left, heading for the Room of Requirements to get her things, bouncing and skipping with glee as she went.

As she had been given the opportunity to go into London to buy some clothes and school-things, Luna's personal possessions could be gathered into one shabby second-hand trunk and Levitated easily through the labyrinth of corridors to the seventh floor.

Indeed, the wall at the end of what Luna thought of as the Gryffindor corridor opened when she said "_Admonitio_", and revealed a winding stone staircase that disappeared into darkness, light fading on the first step.

She moved through into the gloom and made her way quickly and carefully up the stairs. There was not a second door at the top, thankfully, as she probably wouldn't have been able to open it, what with her trunk Levitating in front of her and blocking her way. The staircase instead opened into a large, open room.

There was a large bay window with a view of the grounds, fronted by what looked like a combination between a desk, a dining table, and a meeting table. Embedded in the wall on the far wall was a grand fireplace, with sofas and armchairs crowded around it for the warmth it would give out. The whole place was lined with bookcases, filled with thick volumes, and also various notebooks, which, upon closer inspection later, Luna found were helpful notes from previous Head Boys and Girls, and lists of passwords and such useful information. There were two further staircases on each side of the room. She recalled Dippet telling her that hers was on the left of the room.

Flicking her wand to raise her trunk higher into the air, she proceeded up the left staircase to her bedroom. There was a door at the top of these stairs, which Luna struggled through. As she passed through, she noticed a carved plaque that already read '_HEAD GIRL – Luna Christopher'. _

_**Head Girl. Intelligence. Cleverest in her year, as Luna was in hers. Friend. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Books. Books. Butterfly. ...Falling.**_

She frowned. How strange.

She looked into the room. It was bright and sunny; the broad window, complete with window-seat, let a lot of light spill across the floor. Luna set her trunk on the wooden floorboards and walked to investigate a door on the other side of the room. It lead to a small, cosy bathroom – with _another_ door. Curious, she followed it through to another chamber.

The Head Boy's room was very similar to her own, and yet... very different. It was darker, more closed in, somehow. Maybe the curtains weren't open as wide as hers; maybe it was north-facing, and therefore didn't receive so much light anyway... it was strange. Almost chilling.

_Who_ _is__ the Head Boy,_ she wondered. Remembering that her name had been written on her door, she moved to his, and held it open to read the plaque, squinting in the dim light.

'_HEAD BOY – Tom Riddle'_

She jolted.

_**Diary. Red hair. Friend. Attacks. Trauma. Tom Riddle. Voldemort.**_

She stared in silence at the name, her eyes wide. She lifted a hand and ran her fingers over the engraved letters, deep in the wood. She wanted another flash-back – she wanted to know more.

Nothing came to her.

**xxx**

**A/N: Yaaay, nice and cliché... but let's be honest, we all love a bit of head-hitting timetravel and amnesia, don't we?**


	3. Niceties

**A/N: **Hello everybody... This is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. I hope you enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Three: Niceties**

_Who __is__ the Head Boy, she wondered. Remembering that her name had been written on her door, she moved to his, and held it open to read the plaque, squinting in the dim light. __**'HEAD BOY – Tom Riddle'**__ She jolted._

_Diary. Red hair. Friend. Attacks. Trauma. Tom Riddle. Voldemort._

_She stared in silence at the name, her eyes wide. She lifted a hand and ran her fingers over the engraved letters, deep in the wood. She wanted another flash-back – she wanted to know more. Nothing came to her._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Despite the fact that everyone was staring at her, Luna didn't feel at all uncomfortable.

The other students had finally arrived, and she had gladly joined them all at the Ravenclaw table, wearing her favourite radish earrings, and had her hair in plaits, because she thought they made her look quite scholarly. She was grateful that Dippet hadn't insisted on her being re-Sorted, as she would have had to join the first-years, who were all very small, and a few of whom looked as though they wouldn't be very nice people.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" someone beside her asked in a whisper as Dippet mounted the podium and begun his speech in a rather toneless, bored voice that suggested he had made this announcement too many times. It was a girl, about her age, though she looked younger, with thick red ringlets and too-large eyes, though her elfin nose levelled the proportions of her face.

"Hello," said Luna. "I'm Luna."

"No, seriously – who are you?" she hissed. "Don't you try and outsmart me, alright. This is Ravenclaw. We're the clever ones, and we're also a tightly-knit bunch. I do not know you, and that means that you're not one of us."

"I am now," Luna replied simply, smiling broadly. "I like your nose, by the way."

The girl lifted an insecure hand to her nose, self-conscious. "Are you trying to be funny?" she demanded.

"No." Luna wondered why she would think that. "It's a nice shape. It compliments your eyes. Is your name Jenny?"

Possibly-a-Jenny frowned. "No," she said scornfully. "My name's Susannah Keogh. Why in God's name would it be_ Jenny_?"

"I'm not sure. You looked like a Jenny, I thought."

"...Are those _turnips_ on your ears?" she asked incredulously.

"Radishes." Luna smiled. "Thank you for noticing. Do you like them?"

Susannah Keogh turned away from Luna and whispered to her friends.

"_So who is she?_"

"_Luna. She says she's in Ravenclaw."_

"_Well, she's not. I think I'll give her a piece of my mi-"_

"_No, Amelia, don't. She's insane, honestly."_

Luna smiled. She was used to that. She wondered if they knew that she could hear them still; in perfect clarity, as well. She twirled a plait around her wrist like a bracelet and looked back up at Headmaster Dippet, who was bringing forth the Sorting Hat and a small wooden stool.

"Abbot, Catriona!" Dippet called loudly. A chubby girl trembled her way to the front of the Great Hall.

"_She has vegetables on her ears as well."_

"_What the hell? No, she doesn't, that's going too far – oh my, she really does! Are those turnips?"_

"_No – apparently, they're __radishes__. Like they're not the same."_

"_Merlin."_

"Gardiner, Edward!" Dippet shouted.

She looked slowly up and down the table. All of the other students were staring at her. Most averted their eyes when they realised that Luna had seen them. A few maintained their gaze. One of these was a dark-haired girl. Unusually, there was no hostility in her eyes, just a curiosity and an intense thoughtfulness. Luna smiled. The girl looked away.

"Upham, Gladys!"

A tiny blonde girl was Sorted into Gryffindor, and then Dippet rolled up the large sheet of parchment that he had been reading the names from. He clasped his hands together.

"We have one more addition to the school before we announce responsibilities," he called out. "I would like to inform you that Hogwarts was accepted its first transfer student – her name is Luna Christopher, and will be joining seventh-year. She has only recently moved from Beauxbatons, so I would appreciate if there was no discrimination of any sort, and if you could please make an effort to welcome her."

A murmur went through the audience. Luna looked across at the dark-haired that she had been previously staring at. The girl wasn't looking at her; by her lip movements (something her father had taught her at an early age, in case she ever needed to communicate with Flarbettes – the beautiful and rare mute apes of the Parisian underground) Luna knew that she was saying to the girl beside her, "_How embarrassing_."

The girl who was not Jenny – Susannah Keogh, Luna remembered – narrowed her eyes at her and then turned away with her nose in the air.

"Prefects this year will be... from Slytherin – Rabastan Lestrange and Cassiopeia Black ; from Hufflepuff – Derek Valentine and Melanie Macmillan; from Ravenclaw – Andrew Veitch and Catrin Corner; Gryffindor – Charlus Potter and Margaret Ruck."

Dippet plastered a fake smile on his lips and congratulated the eight awkward adolescents standing before the podium to collect their badges. As they headed back to their according tables with red faces, Luna clapped enthusiastically and waited for what she knew was coming next.

"And the Head Boy and Head Girl will be... Tom Riddle, from Slytherin, and Luna Christopher, from Ravenclaw," Dippet called out.

Gasps and exclamations of outrage rang out. Someone from the far end of the Great Hall – Slytherin, she suspected – shouted, "That's not fair!" It was probably one of the two Slytherins from whom Luna had stolen the position.

_Sorry_, she thought, sending them an apologetic vibe so that they would like her and so that she wouldn't get off on the wrong foot.

She stood up, and for a moment just remaining standing by her seat, looking into the distance to see this mysterious Tom Riddle.

_**Diary. Red hair. Friend. Attacks. Trauma. Tom Riddle. Voldemort.**_

He looked to be quite tall, a slim frame outlined sleekly beneath his robes, and fairly good-looking. His hair was thick, straight and dark, with a full fringe across his eyes. He didn't seem very happy.

_**Tom Riddle. Voldemort.**_

Their eyes collided across the Hall.

_**Voldemort**_**.**

Wondering why his name and that other strange word continued to repeat in her mind, flashing to her constantly, Luna headed towards the podium to collect her badge. Tom Riddle reached it first, and as she neared Dippet, tentative applause sounding behind her, she heard him speaking urgently in a low, frustrated voice: "-but, sir, I thought – it was supposed to be Rosalin Veitch-"

"Congratulations!" Dippet said loudly, drowning him out. He then whispered, "Not now, Tom, eh?"

Tom Riddle's eyes narrowed lethally, flashing sideways to her with enough venom to paralyse.

"Hi," she said brightly, waving at him. "I'm Luna."

Without a word, he took his Head Boy badge and stalked away from her, disappearing back to the Slytherin table. Luna smiled at Dippet, took her own badge and returned to the other Ravenclaws, careful not to stab herself with the pin as she clipped it onto the sleeve of her left arm.

"Why the hell are _you_ Head Girl?" Susannah Keogh asked angrily. "You haven't even been to the school yet, apart from maybe ten minutes."

"Actually, I've been living here for... a month and a half," Luna corrected cheerfully. "It's okay; you didn't know."

Susannah scowled and turned away to where a plate full of roast potatoes had just appeared.

Luna helped herself to steak-and-kidney pie, and looked across the Hall. Now that she knew who he was, she realised that Tom Riddle was directly in her line of view. She focused on his lips and read what he was saying, despite the distance.

"_-idiot told me it was infallible-"_

Her eyes flickered to the boy beside her, a scrawny boy with dusty-blonde hair.

"_It __was __infallible! We even had people in the other Houses just in case this happened. Honestly, how was I supposed to know that a random French transfer was going to turn up?"_

Back to the Head Boy.

"_You should have had a __back-up plan__. This is why you're as low in the hierarchy as you are, Carrow. You don't __think ahead_."

"_I'm sorry."_

"_You will be."_

"_There may still be something we can do."_

"_Such as?"_

"_...Well, I don't know, but it's not so bad. She doesn't look like any trouble. Pretty little blondie. What would she care about what you get up to?"_

"_Carrow, if I were you, I would quickly realise when to shut your mouth. So far your stupid assumptions have resulted in rendering my carefully-constructed plans __useless__, and I do not intend to let your foolish mouth sway my decisions any further._"

"_I apologise, my Lord."_

Luna frowned. My Lord?

_**Voldemort. **__**Lord**__** Voldemort. Tom Riddle.**_

"Voldemort?" she said aloud. None of this made any sense. She wished that her memory would hurry up and return so that she could piece together all this mess.

Tom Riddle's dark eyes flashed up to her face in a split-second, his expression stony.

She wondered if he had heard her.

She waved enthusiastically, beaming.

He tore his eyes away from her, turning to speak quietly to someone beside him. Maybe he knew that she could read lips, or maybe it was a coincidence, but this time he hid his face, so that all she could see of his speech was the strong, pale profile of his jaw moving.

The rest of the meal was a blur for her. Someone spoke to her, but she was too deep in her own world to answer, and soon she was left alone – left alone to her thoughts, spinning and reeling.

Why was the Head Boy so heavily associated with the term _'Lord Voldemort'_? And... a diary. And a friend. She didn't understand. What was this flash-back that she was having all the time? What did it mean?

She wished that she could remember something... _anything_... that might help her. As a Ravenclaw, she was always determined to unravel mysteries, to understand everything that she didn't, and this was infuriating.

A loud _crash _brought Luna's attention back to the present, and she looked up sharply. A shame-faced first-year, in standing up and leaving the table, had knocked a plate to the floor and was now flushing scarlet. She realised by this that it was time to go, and stood.

The path to the Head common room was by now familiar; she followed it easily, barely even paying attention to where she was going.

"_Admonitio,_" she said to the wall, and headed up the staircase, disappearing into the darkness as the wall closed behind her.

It was bizarrely bright in the common room. Luna liked it to be well-lit, especially considering the late hour. She shivered, having come from the cold stone stairwell, and moved to one of the mounted candles on the wall. She stood close by it, hugging herself to get warm, and inhaled the musky fragrance of the smoke and wax.

There was a bang on the stairwell somewhere below her – probably the secret door - and, surprised, she exhaled sharply, extinguishing the candle before her. The common seemed much darker all of a sudden, even with only one candle gone.

Tom Riddle appeared in the entrance to the stairwell. His gaze skimmed over the common room, landing finally on her, standing still by a darkened torch, staring at him with wide, child-like eyes. He didn't move for a moment. There was a strange intensity to his eyes. She still wasn't sure of their colour – dark blue, steel-grey, or black – but they were the only thing she could see at the moment. They both stood stock still.

"Hi," she said, unfolding her arms to wave at him. Breaking the silence.

He didn't reply. Instead, he turned his back on her and headed towards the staircase to his bedroom.

_**Tom Riddle. Voldemort,**_flashed back to her.

She remembered how he had reacted from, seemingly, hearing her say it all the way across the Great Hall at dinner. Acting on instinct, she called after him, "_Voldemort_!"

Instantly, he went rigid, his back tensing. Slowly turning back to face her, he spoke – the first thing he had said to her so far: "_What_?"

Luna grinned at him. "Hi."

"What did you just say?" Tom ground out, his eyes narrow and lethal.

"Oh, _that_." Luna flapped her hand flippantly. "I said '_beau fort_' – it's French." She winked at him jauntily. "It means 'strong beauty'. You have nice arms."

Tom stared at her, silent, suspicious. He seemed to be judging whether or not to believe her explanation. He didn't answer.

"Hi," she said, for the fourth time now. "I'm Luna."

"I know."

"And you are...?" she asked.

"You should have been paying attention during announcements in the Great Hall." There was a detached iciness in his tone, as though he longed to add something. '_Instead of eavesdropping on Slytherin conversations'_, perhaps.

"Don't worry, I was," Luna explained. "I know who you are. It's just polite, you know, to introduce yourself more formally."

Tom stared at her, his jaw tight with resentment and irritation.

"This is where you amend by saying 'hello, my name is Tom, nice to meet you', and so on," she told him, feeling sorry for him that he clearly didn't know how to talk to people sociably. He clearly _did_ want to speak to her... he was simply incapable. Sad, really.

"Riddle."

"Hm?"

"_Riddle_," he corrected coldly. "I prefer not to be addressed by my first name."

"That's okay," she said, smiling sympathetically. "I prefer not to be called Loony. It happens sometimes, though."

Without another word to her, he turned sharply on his heel and stormed away up to his chamber.

Luna watched him go, tilting her head sideways in thought. _Voldemort._ Maybe it didn't mean anything. After all, his reaction had been definitely more confused than anything else.

No, she thought, nodding, he seemed like a very nice boy.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

_**Just a bit further... a little more...**_

_**A yellow butterfly.**_

_**Books.**_

_**Falling.**_

_**Bang.**_

"_**What in God's name do you think you're doing?"**_

_**Voices.**_

_**Falling.**_

_**BANG.**_

_**Thump-thump. Thump-thump.**_

_**BANG.**_

Her eyes flashed open. She checked the clock. Two-thirty-four in the morning. She scrunched her long hair up behind her, pinning it under her head, and tried to get back to sleep.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Luna was woken by the sunlight coming in through her bright, wide window. She lay for a moment, stretching in the warmth like a cat, before swinging her legs sideways and climbing out of bed. She searched through the trunk that she had slowly worked to fill during her visits to neighbouring towns. She added to the plain, uninteresting school uniform – she wore a large pink chrysanthemum on a piece of green thread around her neck, and a yellow sash wrapped three times around her wrist, to ward off unhappy thoughts. She combed her hair, and left it loose, but she did insert a butterfly clip to hold it off her face. She had her schoolbag... was there anything else that she needed? No.

She hopped down the steps, missing the second from the bottom, because everyone knew that the second step from the bottom was always made from the wood of a tree which held evil fairies.

Just leaving the Head common room was none other than her lovely roommate, who she hoped she could get to know better. Maybe he would invite her to sit with him at breakfast.

"Hello!" she chirped. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

He stopped, his hand skimming the edge of the door way, and then, after a short pause, turned to face her. "I realise now that I didn't formally introduce myself yesterday," he told her calmly. His voice was pleasant enough, but still cold and detached. "My name is Riddle, I am in Slytherin House, I am Head Boy, I am seventeen years old, and I'll let you know now that I don't enjoy niceties, nor do I appreciate them, and therefore you should refrain from wasting your time on such frivolities."

She smiled broadly. "Maybe I like wasting time."

"Maybe _I _don't."

"Maybe I don't care if you don't."

"_Maybe_," he ground out, "you _should."_

Luna just continued smiling disarmingly at him. "Oh well."

Tom's lip curled slightly; he turned on his heel sharply and disappeared down the stairs. Luna skipped after him.

"You're in Slytherin, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"That's nice. I'm in Ravenclaw."

"I know."

"Why did you want Rosalin Veitch to be Head Girl so badly?"

His eyes snapped to hers harshly. "What do you know about that?"

"Nothing. That's why I'm asking," she pointed out, and then added thoughtfully. "Do you fancy her? Is she very pretty?" He didn't answer this. Luna thought maybe she had hit a tender spot, a broken heart perhaps, and moved on. "Is it true that Slytherins aren't very nice?"

No emotion appeared on his face, but she thought she saw a flicker of humour, maybe irony, somewhere in his eyes. "Generally."

"I don't believe that."

"And why not?"

"Because you're a Slytherin, aren't you? And I think you're quite nice," she complimented him.

Seemingly taken off guard, Tom stopped walking and looked down at her – he was taller by a few inches. He didn't speak, nor did his expression change, but he simply stared at her. She didn't know what he was looking for, and just stared back, a resonating smile in her lips and eyes. It was those eyes again that held her there, burning with intensity. She felt as though she could see his soul, but of course she couldn't, because all that she could see was blackness.

"Riddle." A voice broke through.

He ripped his gaze from hers and moved away, joining the burly dark boy – his name was Black, she remembered – who had called him. Together they walked into the Great Hall, Tom striding slightly in front of Black, as though taking the centre-stage. Luna blinked. She hadn't realised that they had reached the dining room.

She followed them in, but then swerved to her own path, heading towards the Ravenclaw table. And then-

"Luna Christopher," someone said, not shouting, but still audible.

Surprised, she looked across to find the voice, and found the elegantly-structured face of the girl she had been staring at yesterday. It was apparent now that the girl was really very small, tiny, and obviously quite rich. Her hair was perfectly raven-black, almost blue, with a straight-across fringe over faintly yellow-green eyes, like a cat's.

"Sit with us." It wasn't a request.

Luna smiled, and walked over to her. '_Us_' consisted of only one other girl, who was familiar, with her curly hair and large eyes. "I'm Luna," she said cheerfully - though they already knew that, as they had called her - and sat beside the dark-haired girl.

"My name is Rosie Veitch," said the one beside her. Her accent was clear and polished. "I'm in your year – in fact, I applied for Head Girl, but didn't get the part... evidently." There was a tone of resentment. "I hope you can take the pressure."

"Oh, be nice," said the other, curly-haired girl, though her voice wasn't particularly warm either. "I'm Mona Keogh. I saw you talking to my sister."

Luna's eyes widened. Of course... Mona was almost identical to Susannah, though her hair was flatter, lanker, and pale brown instead of a bright ginger. "She's very nice," Luna said kindly of Susannah.

"Susie?" Mona snorted. "I hate her. We're twins and I wish we weren't."

Not quite sure what to say to this, Luna simply smiled.

"How are you coping with Riddle?" Rosie asked, out of the blue. She was fixing her fringe, tweaking the corners with her thumbs, and staring into the distance.

"I don't know what you mean."

Rosie glanced at her with an expression of poorly-hidden disdain. "I mean what do you think of him? I saw that you were talking outside of the Hall."

"Oh. Yes, we were." Luna considered the question. "I think he's very nice... rather shy though."

Mona and Rosie exchanged a look.

"Why do you ask?" the blonde enquired as she buttered some toast, beginning to feel comfortable with these two Ravenclaw girls. Perhaps she would make friends with them and they would like her. That would be quite good.

"Well, he's staring at you, for one thing."

Luna took a bite of her toast. "Is he?" She nodded. "Good for him."

"Well, why is he doing it?" Mona demanded.

"I don't know." Luna turned in her seat and looked back at the Slytherin table. It took her a moment to find Tom Riddle, but then their eyes crashed. Her lips split in a curious smile, her eyes lighting up. He stared, expressionless, and then suddenly he turned to speak to someone beside him. Again, his lips were guarded as though protecting from being 'overheard', if long distance lip-reading could be classified under such a category.

"I suppose I know," Rosie said under her breath, sipping her goblet of pumpkin juice. Her yellow eyes held Luna over the rim of it.

"You would," Mona mumbled. "You may as well be his-"

"_Mona,"_ Rosie said sharply, her eyes flashing; in that moment Luna saw the cat within her, back arched, hissing with fury.

The curly-haired girl sank into her seat, prodding her breakfast with a fork. A hot red flush stained her cheeks patchily. She didn't speak again for the rest of the meal, except when Luna asked her to pass her the salt and pepper, to which she nastily replied, "If you're Head Girl and so smart, why don't you Summon it?" Luna suspected that she wasn't in a very good mood.

Luna's first lesson of the year was Potions. She smiled to herself as she stood from the table and headed off to the dungeons – not sure how she immediately knew the lesson's location –so that she could get there early and introduce herself to the Professor. She quite liked Potions. It was interesting, though it always made her feel-

_**Sadness. Explosion. Purple liquid. Some blood. St. Mungoes'. A familiar man crying. A familiar woman dead. A funeral-**_

Then, while daydreaming, she crashed into someone. She recovered immediately, but the student who she'd hit stumbled and grabbed the wall to stop himself from falling over.

"Oh, sorry," she smiled apologetically over her shoulder as she continued on her way. The other person didn't reply, just looked at her with the corners of his lips tilted upwards in friendly acknowledgement of her faux pas. And just a fleeting glance of apology seemed to last and last, but then she looked away and continued to Potions.

**xxx**

**A/N: Tralala. This is basically full of clichés, just for lulzies. Oh well.**


	4. Flashfire

**A/N: **Hello everybody... This is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. I hope you enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Four: Flashfire**

"_He's staring at you." Luna turned in her seat and looked back at the Slytherin table. It took her a moment to find Tom Riddle, but then their eyes crashed. Her lips split in a curious smile, her eyes lighting up. He stared, expressionless, and then suddenly he turned to speak to someone beside him._

_Then, while daydreaming, she crashed into someone. "Oh, sorry," she smiled apologetically over her shoulder as she continued on her way. The student into whom she'd bumped didn't reply, just looked at her with the corners of his lips tilted upwards in friendly acknowledgement of her faux pas. And just a fleeting glance of apology seemed to last and last, but then she looked away and continued to Potions._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Potions was a Slytherin-Ravenclaw lesson. Luna sat quite near the front but tilted her seat so that she could see people coming in, as she had been very early and had been the first one there.

A group of Slytherins came in a thick group, and at the front, almost as though he was leading them to where they needed to be, was:

"Hi, Tom!" Luna called, waving cheerfully at him from across the room as he came in.

His eyes flashed to her and immediately away. He took a seat at the back with three of the Slytherins that he had walked in with. Each table could fit four people. The three seated at his table looked very proud of themselves, and those not glowered, resentful. Well, he was clearly quite popular.

Luna tried to identify the people at his table with names she had heard. There was Black, who she knew by now from his burly stance, heavy-set eyebrows and bored expression. He was the one that she saw Tom with most often. Beside Black was a boy with blonde hair like an oil slick, who she somehow immediately knew was called _Malfoy._ She didn't know why that name came so easily to her. Finally, on Tom's other side was a porcelain girl speaking to the Head Boy in a low undertone.

"Alright, then, class," boomed Professor Slughorn as he organised some papers on his desk. He glanced up at them. "Come on, come on, summer's over. I expect to see twenty-something Potions textbooks on desks. Hurry up."

Luna already had hers out. She drummed her nails absent-mindedly on the desktop, waiting.

"Today we will be attempting to create _Felix Felicis_," Slughorn declared, twirling his wand and non-verbally lighting the fire beneath his cauldron. You should know what this is – we studied the theory of it last year. However, _this_ year, you will be making it. Get into pairs."

Looking around, Luna abruptly realised that, on a table of four, she was sitting completely alone.

"Miss Christopher, do you have a partner?" Slughorn asked.

Luna checked again. "No," she replied. "I don't mind, sir. I could manage to make it myself."

Snickers and whispering sounded behind her.

"Perhaps, but as this is quite a dangerous procedure, I would much prefer for you to form a pair with someone." Slughorn looked about the room. "Ah. I see. We seem to have an odd number this year." He shook his head teasingly. "Dear, dear, you've disrupted our order, Miss Christopher. Form a three, please – you can join Mr. Black and Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, sir." She had reached out to gather up her books, but then stopped. She turned and called to the back of the room, where the two Slytherin boys were watching her interestedly. "How about we work on this table?" she suggested. "There's more room."

"How about you shut up?" Malfoy drawled, chuckling. He evidently thought that he was very funny.

Luna frowned, but nodded. How were they supposed to work if she wasn't allowed to speak? She silently pointed at her empty desk, and then held a questioning thumbs-up to them.

Black rolled his eyes. "Just get the hell over here."

She swept her things into her arms and walked through the room to their table. She felt someone watching her and glanced over at where Tom was sitting. As she had realised now was quite commonplace, he was staring at her, his eyes burning. She was about to smile or wave or say something, but something in the way her fingers buzzed with static made her stop.

She dumped her books on the tabletop. "Can I talk now?" she asked.

"What blood status are you?" Malfoy demanded, ignoring her question. He turned to the right page in the textbook and began cutting up Venomous Tentacula roots.

Luna thought about this, carefully, for a moment or two as she stirred the water in the boiling cauldron. "I don't know," she said truthfully.

Malfoy blinked at her. "You don't know?"

She nodded. "I can't remember. Could you pass the scarab beetles, please?"

"Get them yourself."

Hitching her sleeves up so as not to drag in the cauldron water, she leaned all the way across the table, past her two partners, and retrieved the scarab beetles on her own.

"How can you not_ remember_?" Malfoy scoffed. "Have you got amnesia, or something?"

Luna shrugged. "Or something." She apologised to the scarab beetles, squirming on the tabletop, and then crushed them. She dropped them one by one into the hot liquid.

"Probably just a Mudblood," she heard Black mutter to Malfoy. "Don't waste your time. We have more important things to be focused on."

As Luna reached for the next scarab, she noticed that Malfoy's robe sleeve was hanging in a puddle of scarab beetle juice. "Look out for your robes, by the way."

He snatched his sleeve out of the way and swore under his breath. Then, when he pushed it up past his elbow, Luna caught a glimpse a long, blurry black mark on his arm.

_**Morsmordre. Green twisting in the sky. Men and women hung by their ankles.**_

It looked like a skull, with something skeletal twisting sinisterly through the eye sockets.

_**Silver masks and long black cloaks.**_

"What's that?" she asked curiously.

_**Voldemort.**_

Malfoy glanced down, and then flushed a strange, angry colour. He shook his sleeve down instantly and glared at her. "None of your business, blondie," he snapped. He then looked over his shoulder at Tom.

"Okay."

Tom was watching the exchange carefully, his face as impassive as ever. However, for a split-second, his eyes flashed with something powerfully raw – and then it was gone. He turned back to his own cauldron. Over his shoulder, the porcelain beauty that he was sitting beside met Luna's eyes with a challenging gaze of green ice.

"Right, you should be just about finished now," Slughorn announced, just as Luna's, Black's and Malfoy's potion was turning the correct shade of faint, shimmery gold. "Stop working! I will come to observe everyone's cauldrons, and once my inspection is complete, you may bottle it and send it to my desk."

Luna snapped her textbook shut and piled her parchment notes neatly on top. She stood in front of her stool, waiting. Malfoy, beside her, towered almost a head higher than her. It was quite intimidating. For all his brawn, she wondered why he had seemed so constantly aware of – and she would have even said _paranoid _about – Tom Riddle.

"Mr. Riddle, Miss Selwyn." Slughorn paused at the other half of the table. "My, my, Tom, you've truly outdone yourself. Ten points to Slytherin. Spot on, once again. Did you even give poor Miss Selwyn a look-in?"

Slughorn wagged a finger in mock-disapproval, but as the girl beside Tom looked up coyly at him from below her lowered eyelashes, Luna suspected that _poor Miss Selwyn_ didn't mind at all.

"And, dear Tom, will you be coming to the Slug Club tonight?" Slughorn wheedled, stirring the cauldron twice experimentally.

_**Slug Club. Friends. Red hair, freckles. Glasses, scar. A yellow eyebrow.**_

"No, sir," Tom said shortly. The girl beside him looked slightly affronted that she didn't have an invitation to turn down.

"Preoccupied again?" Slughorn blotted his forehead with a silk handkerchief. "Good grief, boy. How many Slytherin parties can one possibly be invited to? If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were _avoiding_ the Slug Club."

"Of course not, sir. As it is, I think I'll be missing any social events tonight in favour of studying. Head Boy, you know."

"Oh yes, congratulations! It's good to see you're taking it so seriously. Well, well. I hope to see you there soon. Next week, perhaps." The rotund Potions master continued on. "Ah, Miss Christopher. At long last I have an opportunity to see your work. Dippet tells me you are quite the able Potions student. Let me see." He peered into their cauldron. "_Wonderful_." His broad face split in a beam, his moustache twitching. "Absolutely _marvellous_." He rubbed his hands together gleefully, leaned low and inhaled. "_Wonderful_," he repeated. He stirred the potion once. "I don't suppose that _you_ would be interested in coming to the Slug Club tonight?"

Luna blinked, baffled. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not really sure what it is."

"Oh, silly. It's just a little party-"

"_**How would you like to come to Slughorn's party with me?" the dark-haired boy asked. Beneath the upper rim of his round glasses, Luna could see that one of his eyebrows was yellow. It actually looked quite good. He spoke very quickly, as though it was on the spur of the moment.**_

_**Luna waited for him in the Entrance Hall, wearing her starry silver robes. She thought she looked pretty. She beamed at him as he approached down the stairs. A lot of girls had been glaring at her for some reason.**_

_**Slughorn's office was much larger than a normal one. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings. Pipe smoke made the air hazy, and a mandolin band twanged in the far corner. Lots of food was piled high on a buffet table, with squeaky house-elves battling through the crowd to stock and re-stock. The boy – now both his eyebrows were the right colour – pulled her through the crowd to a bushy-haired girl.**_

"_**Hermione!"**_

"_**Harry! There you are, thank goodness. Hi, Luna!" The girl looked very out of breath and her brown hair was wild. "Oh, I've just escaped – I mean, I've just left – Cormac. Under the mistletoe."**_

She stared thoughtfully into space.

_**Harry. Hermione**_**.**

Such familiar names. Such familiar memories... that she knew nothing about.

"Well, Miss Christopher? Will you be there?" Slughorn prompted, bringing her back to reality rather sharply.

Luna recalled that the other Slug Club had not been particularly appealing. At least at the first one, she'd had... that Harry boy, who she supposed from the memory was a friend of hers, or at least a fairly close acquaintance. However, at this one, she'd be all alone. She realised that the whole class was staring at her, waiting for her to answer so that they could leave the lesson.

"No, thank you," she replied politely. "I'm sure it would be fun, but it's only my first day back and I think I'll probably be too tired for a party."

Slughorn looked disappointed. "Ah, well. Maybe next time. Good work, anyway. Ten points to Ravenclaw – and Slytherin," he mumbled as an afterthought, finally noticing Black and Malfoy hovering nearby as well.

While he walked away, Luna packed her schoolbooks into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, taking care to pull the ribbon of her chrysanthemum necklace out of the way first. As she did so, she felt someone staring at her.

This time, she didn't turn back to look, because she already knew exactly who it was.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

The next morning, Luna almost didn't expect to see Tom Riddle in the Head common room. She had been doing her homework in that very room, and had been up until two in the morning – and she hadn't heard him come in. She thought perhaps he was on patrol and had been lost. And yet, yesterday had been _her_ turn for patrol. It was all very strange.

However, he _was_ there. Coming down the stairs, adjusting his green-and-silver tie as he walked, immaculate as ever. There were shadows under his eyes like pale bruises, as though he'd been in a fight last week and the marks were just fading.

"Are you okay?" she asked conversationally as she checked that she had all of the equipment that she needed for school.

His stormy eyes lifted to meet hers. There was a strange, unreadable expression in them; like he was half-expecting something. The colour and darkness and intensity of them made her brain spin. "Never better."

"Oh. Good, then. I just thought you didn't look particularly well." She looked up at him as she closed the latch on her schoolbag. "Where were you last night?"

He looked at her sharply. His eyes were dizzyingly dark. "I was here."

"Really?" She frowned. "I didn't think you were."

"I was in my room."

"You were very quiet," she commented.

"What noise would you expect to be created if I was alone in my room?" he said coldly.

"If you weren't out at this Slytherin party thing, then why couldn't you go to the Slug Club?" Luna pointed out.

"Why couldn't _you_?" He straightened the front of his robes and cast a hurried glance in the hall mirror. Apparently he deemed himself attractive enough for the day, and left the common room without waiting for a reply.

Luna hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and headed after him. She had intended to ask about his previous fixation with Rosie Veitch again, but by the time she had reached the bottom of the staircase, he was already long gone. Either he walked very quickly or knew some secret short-cuts through the school.

She headed for the staircase at the end of the corridor, but as she approached it, a portrait of a very large woman in a pink dress swung open and hit her.

"_Ow_," she exclaimed, recoiling and looking balefully at the gold frame which had caused the ache now throbbing in her shoulder.

"Well, there's my revenge, then," an amused voice sounded nearby, and when Luna looked up, she saw standing a few feet away the boy who she had crashed into on her way to Potions yesterday. "Are you alright?"

"I think so." She gingerly prodded her shoulder where the painting had hit her. She remembered the dizzy feeling that she'd had in the Head common room. "If anything, at least the Wrackspurts have been knocked out of my head."

The boy bobbed his head slowly, as though trying to work out what on earth she was going on about without being impolite. She took more note of him this time – average height, stocky, brown hair, dusting of freckles. He stuck his hands in his pockets and grimaced. "Sorry about that. I've mentioned a hundred times for the Prefects to bring up how inconveniently placed the Fat Lady is. I of all people should know how dangerous it is." He tilted his head to one side and pointed towards a thin scar, about an inch long, near his hairline.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed, horrified.

"Well, it wasn't just the painting," he admitted. "I did fall down the stairs as well." He reached back to push the Fat Lady painting closed behind him.

"Oh, okay." She exhaled heavily with relief. "I don't like the idea of head trauma. When did that happen?"

"In my fourth year."

She nodded vigorously, and was going to say that she'd bring up the matter of the painting's position in the next Head meeting when two other boys came out of the Gryffindor common room. They both ducked out of the way of the swinging portrait.

"Oi, come on, Sinclair," one of the other boys jeered.

The boy she had been talking to shouted after them, moving to follow, but before he disappeared down the stairs, he shot her one last smile. "See you around, maybe."

And that slow burning smile was the only thing she'd found so far that outlasted the flashfire of the Head Boy's eyes.

**xxx**

**A/N: Awwww how cutesy. I do love a bit of cutesy. Updates are probably going to be slower down since I have like all of my coursework now AND my mocks coming up, so apologies – but I will keep writing, I promise.**


	5. Surprise

**A/N: **Hello! I'll be off to France for the next week and then after that I'm back in England... but I'll probably spend most of my time revising for my exams to be honest, so the next update might be slower. This is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. I hope you enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Five: Surprise**

_The next morning, Luna almost didn't expect to see Tom Riddle in the Head common room. She had been doing her homework in that very room, and had been up until two in the morning – and she hadn't heard him come in. She thought perhaps he was on patrol and had been lost. And yet, yesterday had been her turn for patrol. It was all very strange. However, he was there. Coming down the stairs, adjusting his green-and-silver tie as he walked, immaculate as ever. There were shadows under his eyes like pale bruises; as though he'd been in a fight last week and the marks were just fading._

_The boy she had been talking to fired a retort straight back, heading after them, but before he disappeared down the stairs, he shot her one last smile. "See you around, maybe. Definitely."_

_And that slow burning smile was the only thing she'd found so far that outlasted the flashfire of the Head Boy's eyes. _

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

The first Prefect meeting was that Friday. After breakfast and just before the primary lessons of the day, Luna, Tom, and all of the Prefects were due to gather in the Head common room to discuss patrol plans, and ideas for future events.

Luna was the first person there. She sat on the floor with her back to the sunny bay window, warming herself. She set her parchment and quills on the floorboards straight in front of her and watched the doorway to the stairwell for the others coming in.

Tom came in first, followed almost instantly by Rabastan Lestrange, the dark, skinny male Slytherin Prefect. Immediately, Luna noticed the identical bruise-like shadows under their eyes. Apparently Rabastan Lestrange had_ also_ been staying in his room and studying late into the night.

"Hi," she said brightly, waving at them.

The Head Boy eyed her, as though suspicious that there might be an ulterior motive to her sitting on the floor. He dropped lazily into one armchair and then burrowed into his pocket. From there he retrieved a cigarette and lit up. It caught immediately - by non-verbal magic, she guessed, which was impressive as he wasn't even holding his wand.

"Addictive substances are bad for your health," Luna told him, deciding that if he wasn't already aware, then it would a nice, friendly thing to do by alerting him that smoking was dangerous.

His eyes flashed swiftly to hers and lingered there, just staring straight at her – and as he stared, as _she_ watched _him_, he lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a drag, as though just to make a point. He blew the smoke lightly in her direction. "Then I'll have died in paradise," he said, his voice low and husky from the ash, his impassiveness tinged ever-so-slightly at the edges with irony and sarcasm.

She stared back at him as unflinchingly as she had every other time he'd looked at her, but, for the first time, he didn't look away. Blood pounded like a kettle-drum through her ears and she could hear her breathing, shallow and forgetful, dwindling into unimportance.

Voices crashed abruptly through the door. "Sorry we're late!" They came in, almost a pile of bodies, stumbling in their eagerness to not be the last one into the meeting. Slytherin female Prefect Cassiopeia Black, small, curly-haired and dainty, sat beside Rabastan and whispered something quickly to him, glancing at Tom as she spoke. Then there were the Hufflepuffs – blonde Derek Valentine, podgy and insecure Melanie Macmillan. The Ravenclaws were plain Catrin Corner, and dark-haired Andrew Veitch, who she knew by now to be Rosie Veitch's younger brother; the Gryffindors were pretty red-haired Margaret Ruck, and a very familiar boy, small and skinny with glasses, called Charlus Potter-

_**A scrawny boy – Harry, from the Slug Club memory, except shorter – looked awkward where he stood, and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. He shifted and glanced at another boy beside him, small and chubby with brown hair, clutching a toad. A ginger girl that was smaller still stood in front of them, pulling her trunk.**_

"_**Hi, Luna," the ginger girl said, "is it okay if we take these seats?"**_

_**Luna stared at the boy sitting opposite her. Harry. He looked very uncomfortable. "You're Harry Potter," she said bluntly.**_

Luna blinked. Harry Potter? Charlus Potter? How strange. Perhaps it was a very common name. Or, more likely, her memory flashes meant nothing at all, as they didn't connect very well and didn't make much sense.

It wasn't important now, however, and she shook the thoughts away.

"Sit down, everyone," she called cheerfully. "Sit where you like. The chairs are very nice, but the floor is even nicer. I haven't tried the table yet."

The Prefects glanced at each other with bewildered expressions, and took their seats. Not a single one sat on the floor. Oh well. It was their loss.

"Now then." She took a deep breath. "I convene-" She paused, seeing Tom Riddle still pulling on his cigarette. "Can you put that out, please?"

Tom stared at her, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't move for a moment, and then he drew a long breath on the cigarette. He blew out the smoke and turned it idly in his fingers, completely ignoring her request.

Luna frowned. Maybe a Wrackspurt had got him and he couldn't hear her. "I _said_... Tom, can you put that out, _please_?" she repeated, with an extra emphasis on the '_please_'.

He exhaled sharply, irritated. "No."

"Yes."

"Just get on with the meeting, Christopher."

"I will." She stood up, stepping neatly over her parchment and quills, marched over to where he was sitting, and snatched the cigarette from his arrogant little mouth. He sat upright, outraged, and then stood, towering in his fury as if to split the sky; even then there was nothing he could do but watch her throw it out of the sunny bay window. She turned back to him, with a _'so-there'_ triumph on her face.

Tom's expression was positively murderous. His eyes were the most tempestuous she'd ever seen, captivating in the way that one can't look away from a burning building; his jaw tense, lips pressed tight together.

"Sit down," she said calmly, and took her place once more on the floor. "I convene this Prefect meeting – the seventh of September, 1943."

Tom still stood, towering, staring at her as though he was honestly considering just killing her-

_**A high, cold laugh. A flash of green light.**_

-and then, strangely, he sat back down. She had, deep down, at least expected him to shout at her, or to maybe even be obnoxious and light another just to annoy her. He did none of this. He sank into the armchair and said nothing at all – but never did his eyes leave her once, and the sheer black intensity of them made her knees feel as though she would have fallen over had she not already been sitting down.

The first thing that they discussed was the matter of nightly Prefect patrol rotas. It was decided that the Gryffindors would take Monday; Ravenclaws Tuesday; Hufflepuffs Wednesday; Thursday the Slytherins. Tom and Luna would patrol a night each on the weekend, and the Friday rota would alternate between Houses every week.

The second thing was problems within the school.

"I think the Fat Lady painting needs to be moved," Luna declared, looking up at everyone else for confirmation.

Margaret Ruck raised her eyebrows. "You've been speaking to Fitz, haven't you?"

Luna frowned. "Who?"

"Oh." Margaret shook her head. "Never mind. He's a friend of my brother. He got knocked down the stairs by it this one time and since then he's been on this mighty quest to get it moved. If you know how clumsy he is, then you'll realise that _tripping over the edge of the portrait-hole_ and _stumbling _to the top of the stairs and then falling down doesn't really mean that it's a danger hazard."

"I got hit by it," Luna told her. "It hurt."

Margaret shrugged.

"Take it up with Dippet if you're honestly so concerned," Tom said tonelessly. He stretched slightly, as though this whole affair was boring him immensely. "Meanwhile, onto the next point."

Luna conferred with the list on the parchment in front of her. "Entertainment." She looked up. "What does that mean?"

"It means what we're planning to do this year," Catrin Corner explained. "For example, last year we had a Hallowe'en fancy-dress dinner. The year before that was a Yule Ball. Before that, we had a dance competition on Valentine's Day. At Easter once, we ordered like a million tonnes of Honeydukes chocolate and we sold it. That kind of stuff."

The blonde considered what she'd been told. Hallowe'en. Christmas. Valentine's Day. Easter. What holidays had so far been missed out? "Have you ever done anything for Bonfire Night?" she asked.

Ravenclaw Prefects Catrin Corner and Andrew Veitch glanced at each other. "I don't think so," said Andrew.

"At least," Catrin said slowly, twining a strand of mousey hair around one finger, "I don't remember one as long as I've been here."

"Okay," said Luna brightly. "Why don't we do something for Bonfire night? We could have some-"

"Hang on," Tom, who seemed to have only just begun to pay attention to the conversation, interrupted again, eyes narrowed. "Bonfire Night. Correct me if I'm wrong, which I'm not - but you just suggested _Bonfire Night_."

Luna blinked. "Yes."

"No."

"...Yes?" Luna repeated hesitantly. She was now thoroughly confused.

"_No,"_ Tom repeated, more forcefully this time. "We're not having any Bonfire night festivities."

"Why not?"

He looked at her with an expression that read clear as anything that he thought she was either deliberately trying to annoy him or was just very stupid. "It's a Muggle celebration," he said bluntly.

"Yes, I know. What's wrong with that?" she asked innocently.

"What about Christmas?" Margaret Ruck interrupted, casting a wary gaze between the two Heads of the school, as though she sensed an oncoming danger. "That's always fun."

"We do something for Christmas _every year_," Charlus Potter groaned. "Please, some originality, if this is going to be my only chance to organise something good."

"New Year's Eve?" Derek Valentine suggested. "I can't remember there being anything on New Year's Eve as long as I've been here."

General noises of agreement murmured from the other Prefects. They all turned a cautious eye, not to Luna but to Tom, for approval. He drummed his fingertips idly on the armrest of his chair, keeping them waiting-

"Well, I think that's a very nice idea!" Luna said dreamily. "We could have dancing and lots of cake and fireworks and we could get the teachers drunk and it would all be quite funny – and memorable, most of all." She smiled around at the others, finding that they were all staring at her, seeming quite surprised that she had spoken first. Directly to Tom, she added, "_And _it's not just a Muggle tradition."

There was a pregnant silence.

"Well?" she asked cheekily, twisting a string of green-tinged pearls that hung around her neck. "Can you find any fault in that?"

Finally, he replied. "No."

Luna grinned. From the stunned appearance of the Prefects, it looked as though it was quite a feat to get Tom Riddle to agree to someone else's idea. She felt sufficiently proud of herself to clap her hands together excitedly. "Yay!"

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"Well, hello again."

Luna turned around and saw behind her a familiar brown-haired Gryffindor boy. "Hello!" She smiled widely. "I remember you."

"Aw, shucks," he said in an appalling attempt at an American accent. "Don't that just make me feel darn special."

"You're the one who hit me with the painting, aren't you?" she confirmed. "I have a bruise on my shoulder now."

"Oh." He grimaced. "Sorry about that. I was only joking about revenge – it was an accident. I'm not like... a psychopath. Or something. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No, no, it's fine!" said Luna enthusiastically. "The bruise is quite nice. It's got to the purpley-blue stage now and it's shaped rather like a platypus. I like it, even if it does hurt when I poke it."

"Then don't poke it. Problem solved!" He grinned. "I'm Fitz, by the way."

She extended her hand, in its elbow-length, thick-skinned Herbology glove, to shake his. "I'm Luna. Like tuna, but with a _Luh_ instead of a _Tuh_. I'm not a fish."

Fitz swung his schoolbag onto the table next to her. It hit a plantpot and knocked it off the table but he didn't even seem to notice. "Well, then, Luna, do you happen to have a Herbology partner at this moment in time? Because, I warn you," he said in hushed tones, "we're studying _bellis perrenis_ today, one the most _vicious_, _dangerous_, _man-eating_ plants in existence. I would hate for anything to happen to the new girl because I didn't offer my help."

Luna blinked. "_Bellis perennis_ is the Latin name for the common garden daisy."

He was silent for a moment. Then, he held up one finger and said loudly, "Note to self. Don't try to impress girls who are good at Herbology."

"Were you trying to impress me?" Luna asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise. I would very much like you to save me from any particularly dangerous daisies."

Fitz looked quite pleased with himself, but before he could say anymore, he was interrupted by the Professor's instructions to get the lesson started.

They were not actually studying daisies but were learning to take care of Dolceras, which were small flowering trees sometimes kept as houseplants as they ate rodents and other pests. The only problem was that they were extremely high-maintenance and required careful looking-after for their entire lives.

"A Dolceras requires exactly seven hours of sunlight a day," Professor Callick said, "or it will die." She squinted at the blinds on the south side of the greenhouse and flicked her wand to adjust them. "It needs to be kept in very low temperatures, preferably below ten degrees Celsius - hence the iciness in here today. This is because if it gets too warm its flowers rot and shrivel, limiting its ability to collect water. You should also sprinkle rock salt from the Baltic Sea on it at least once a day to keep frost from forming on the Dolceras or it will be unable to photosynthesise the seven hours of sunlight that it needs. This is best done in the early morning before the sun comes up, but it will suffice if the salt is added as late as nine-thirty. Any later and it is almost a given that the Dolceras will die." She gestured towards a large, battered-looking cupboard. "The salt is stored there," she added.

Fitz leaned subtly towards her and muttered from the side of his mouth, "This godamn plant requires more attention than my _mother_. And she's afraid of _corners."_

Luna stifled laughter behind the back of her hand. "How does she manage?" she whispered back.

"With great difficulty," he admitted. "We live in a circular house and all of our furniture has cushioned edges. She doesn't like going outside because apparently it's too sharp." He made a face. "It's like being in a mental asylum."

Professor Callick tapped the top of a watering-can wordlessly with her wand. "It drinks-"

"Herbal tea from Tibet?" Fitz muttered.

"Water." Water poured from the tip of her wand into the can.

Luna and Fitz turned to each other with raised eyebrows, impressed by the simplicity of it.

"However, it only drinks water at exactly one-hundred-and-two degrees Celsius." Callick tapped the watering-can again and steam began to rise in curls from inside.

"Of course," Luna giggled as Fitz groaned loudly beside her.

Professor Callick threw them a suspicious glance but Luna, her star-pupil, smiled disarmingly back at her. Instead she said to the rest of the class, "Now, either you all have exceptional memories or wish to fail this class, as we will be studying the Dolceras for the next half-term and I see _no-one taking notes_."

Everyone immediately scrambled for paper and a quill anywhere near them. Luna pulled out a sheaf of parchment from within her schoolbag, but Fitz beside her didn't move. This didn't escape Callick who gave him a _shouldn't-you-be-doing-as-I-told-you?_ stare.

"Actually, I was going for the exceptional memory part," he said, giving her an endearing smile.

"Sinclair..." she said warningly.

He huffed his breath out in front of him; it fogged in the cold. He threw his hands up in front of him. "I don't have a quill," he said nonchalantly.

"_Sinclair!"_

He snapped his fingers and pointed quickly across the room. "Okey-dokey, getting a quill," he said and rushed away. He reappeared a moment later with a quill as Luna was neatly writing down the points that Professor Callick had made so far, but stole one of her pieces of parchment to write on.

"Each group will be assigned a Dolceras to look after for the half-term. If one dies, the group in charge of it will automatically fail the class," Professor Callick said. "By the twenty-fifth of October I expect to see seven healthy, happy Dolcerati and by that point they should be ready to harvest." She cast a piercing gaze over the students assembled awkwardly in front of her. "Who here can tell me what one harvests from a Dolceras?"

Luna's hand shot eagerly up but Callick chose someone else to answer; Fitz nudged her with his elbow, having finished scribbling up his notes. "So do you want to get up at ridiculous o'clock to salt our little baby precious every day or do I have to?"

She shrugged lightly. "I don't mind. Getting up early is fun sometimes. Everything is quiet and you can sometimes see the pixie lights from the forest when they're hiding from angry Yumbibirds."

"Yumbibirds." Fitz stood silently beside her for a moment. "I'll have to look out for those."

Luna looked over at him in interest, not having expected his reply. She wasn't sure why she felt such a bizarre feeling of warmth in her stomach; she was sure other people must have showed an interest in Yumbibirds at some point, even if her memory made it impossible to remember.

His eyes flicked sideways to hers and he seemed confused to find her already looking at him. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yes, I'm perfectly fine," she said, a slight smile finding its way to hers lips. "You just surprised me."

Fitz's eyes crinkled questioningly but Professor Callick targeted them before he could ask.

"Why haven't you two got spades yet?" she said incredulously, waving her arms wildly as she approached them. Mud sprayed from her garden gloves onto their faces and clothes. "You should be turning the soil around your Dolceras by now – get on a move on or it'll start feeling claustrophobic!"

"Oh bless its poor soul," Fitz grumbled, grabbing a shovel from the table. "God forbid it feel a bit cramped in its _soil_..."

Professor Callick rolled her eyes at Luna; after their time together in the summer, they were on fairly good terms. "You watch out for that boy," she said, shaking her head.

Luna also took a spade from the table and watched Fitz for a few seconds as he clumsily rearranged the dirt around the plant's mostly-naked roots. He was... different somehow. Regardless of Callick's comment, she certainly would watch out for him.

**A/N: That's all for the next week or so – see you soon! Thanks for reading (:**


	6. Whale Song Anyday

**A/N: **Hello theeere! Sorry about the long wait. My computer was being really strange. I hope it was worth the wait... oh well. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. I hope you enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Six: Whale Song Anyday**

"_I will." She stood up, stepping neatly over her parchment and quills, marched over to where Tom was sitting, and snatched the cigarette from his arrogant little mouth. He sat upright, outraged, and then stood, towering in his fury as if to split the sky; even then there was nothing he could do but watch her throw it out of the sunny bay window. She turned back to him, with a '__so-there'__ triumph on her face._

"_Well, I think that New Year's Eve is a very nice idea!" Luna said dreamily. "We could have dancing and lots of cake and fireworks and we could get the teachers drunk and it would all be quite funny – and memorable, most of all." She smiled around at the others, finding that they were all staring at her, seeming quite surprised that she had spoken first. Directly to Tom, she added, "And it's not just a Muggle tradition."_

_Luna looked over at Fitz in interest, not having expected his reply. She wasn't sure why she felt such a bizarre feeling of warmth in her stomach; she was sure other people must have showed an interest in Yumbibirds at some point, even if her memory made it impossible to remember. Luna also took a spade from the table and watched Fitz for a few seconds as he clumsily rearranged the dirt around the plant's mostly-naked roots. He was... different somehow. Regardless of Callick's comment, she certainly would watch out for him. _

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Shivers caught their spines, stepping from the cold of the greenhouses into the September sunshine. Luna stood for a moment warming herself, not realising that she was blocking the doorway for everyone else.

"Come on, dozy, let's go," Fitz sang, holding her shoulders and pushing her forwards. "You're holding everyone up."

"Oops," she said dreamily, glancing over her shoulder at the disgruntled students behind her before returning her gaze to the crisp blue expanse of sky. It really was a very nice day.

Fitz let go of her arms and instead fell into step beside her. "What lesson do you have next?" he asked.

Luna dragged her attention from how pretty the clouds looked and dug inside her pockets; she pushed past the flower petals that she had gathered from her windowsill in the morning and finally fished out her timetable. She hadn't even unfolded it when Fitz took it from her fingers.

"Herbology, free, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Transfiguration." He balled his hand in a fist and shook it melodramatically. "_Whyyyy_?" Then, seeing the look of bewilderment on Luna's face, he elaborated: "You're not in any of my other lessons today."

"Oh. That's a shame," she said thoughtfully. "You're very sweet."

Fitz didn't respond to this; he instead concentrated his attention on jumping the three steps up to the Entrance Hall. He didn't quite make it and flailed wildly for balance before continuing. He didn't even seem fazed by his near-accident and turned around to face Luna. "Anyway," he said, seemingly skipping over what she had said, "have fun in your free. I have Charms now, so I guess I'll see you later."

"What should I do in my free?" Luna asked. She supposed that she was meant to do homework but any of the few essays that she had been set in these first two weeks of school she had already finished.

"I don't know." Fitz shrugged. "Homework? Read a book? Start a revolution? Do whatever you feel like doing."

Luna considered this. "Okay." She bobbed her head slowly in thoughtful agreement and then waved at him. "I'll see you around then, I suppose."

He also nodded. "Yeah. I'll – yeah. Okay."

They parted then; Fitz heading towards the steps that curved upwards, half-hidden, behind the door into the Great Hall; Luna dawdling uncertainly still in the middle of the Entrance Hall. Having idly watched him go, she was about to turn away when she heard him hurry back down the stairs with all the crashing grace of heavily pregnant rhinoceros.

"Hey!" he called after her, waving wildly. "Luna!" Seeing that she was standing there patiently, he awkwardly tugged his collar away from his neck and hastened across to her somewhat more collectedly. "Hey," he repeated. "Er, tonight there's this... _thing_ – I don't know if you've heard of it yet – but it's called the Slug Club? I know it sounds pretty stupid but it's basically just this little party-"

"Oh yeah," Luna said, recalling Slughorn's offer in Potions. "I have heard of it; Professor Slughorn invited me."

"So... are you going then?"

"No."

Fitz frowned. "Oh. Why not?"

Luna shrugged. "I thought I could spend that time more productively instead... I have lots of books on the Hogwarts rules that I should probably learn – as Head Girl, you know."

"That's a valid point..." Fitz said, raising one hand. He then weighed the other against it. "_But _it could also be argued that the best use of your time would be to socialise with and get to know the students you'll be overseeing." He nudged her with his elbow. "Besides I think you'll find that Rule 274 Section A quite clearly states that no new student can refuse a direct invitation to a party in the first term of school – and I am, in fact, _directly_ inviting you."

"Really?" Luna's mouth fell slightly open. "Oh dear. Well, in that case I will definitely be at the Slug Club tonight!" She broke into a smile.

Fitz took a few steps back towards the stairs he had come from. "Great. I'll see you there then," he said, his face twisting slightly into that lopsided mixture of grin and an attempt not to. He then swivelled and disappeared quickly behind the door to his next lessons.

This left Luna standing alone in the Entrance Hall and she was not at all sure what to do with the empty hour that had just been presented to her. She could have gone to the library and studied but in the first two weeks of school they had not yet received much homework, and that which they had received she had already done. She could always go and look over those rule-books... or look after her Dolceras... but an idea tempted her.

She crossed to the bottom of the main sweeping stairs and balanced herself carefully on one foot. Then, once stable, she began to hop slowly up the steps, her high blonde ponytail swinging behind her. She was fairly expert at hopping though, having practiced with her father at home, and about half-way up the stairs she switched to hopping only on her tiptoes.

At the top of the flight of stairs there was someone standing in front of Luna who she had not noticed before. She looked up to see Rosie Veitch standing in her way, glowering.

"Excuse me please!" Luna chirped, still balancing slightly precariously on one foot.

Rosie raised a disparaging eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"I'm hopping up the stairs," Luna explained breathlessly. "I want to see if I can get all the way to the top of the North tower on one foot."

"... _Why_?"

"I have a free now, of course."

For a moment Rosie looked as though she might respond to this, but then pursed her lips and sidestepped Luna. "Whatever. Come take a walk with me."

"Are you going to hop with me?" Luna asked, feeling a rush of excitement through her. Hopping was so much more fun when done with other people! You could race, or hold each other for support, or-

"No."

Luna shuffled on one foot to stare after Rosie, who by this time was already at the bottom of the stairs.

The dark-haired Ravenclaw glanced back after her shoulder and for instant, with her strong profile and glittering eyes, she looked just like a copy of Tom. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yes!" Luna trotted obediently down the stairs and then skipped slightly catch up to Rosie, who had not waited. "Where are we going?"

"To the bridge," Rosie said decisively. Despite her small stature, she walked fast and Luna, at her usual ambling pace, would find herself drifting behind the other girl sometimes.

They followed the winding gravel path down to the edge of the lake and treaded lightly over the grass to a narrow, rickety wooden walkway. It wasn't really a bridge, as it stretched out finitely across the water and then finished in a small pagoda that looked as though it could collapse on itself at any moment. Rosie reached the pagoda first and sat down neatly on the edge of one of the benches, following Luna with her large yellowish eyes.

Luna jumped up onto one of the benches, ignoring its creaks of protest under her weight, and leant against a supporting pole to look out over the water. The lake looked completely still and quiet, glinting in the harsh light that summer offered.

"It's quite romantic here," Luna said thoughtfully, her fingertips tracing the deep cracks in the wood.

"It's disgusting," Rosie said bluntly, snapping open a hand-mirror and reapplying soft pale powder to her nose and cheeks. "The school's been meaning to close it down for years but Dippet keeps getting silly and sentimental because he proposed to his wife here. Still, at least it's private."

"I'd like a boat," Luna decided, watching light wind coax ripples into the water.

Rosie ignored her. She continued powdering her face and then launched into monologue that seemed too fluid to not have been rehearsed. "Luna, you seem nice but I thought I should talk to you about Riddle. He works very hard; he does a lot of extracurricular things as well as schoolwork and being Head Boy so he's always very busy. Now this may seem a bit antisocial but you really shouldn't interrupt him at all. Don't interfere with his work or he'll be really upset, and then-"

"Is he – does he require _help_ or anything?" Luna cut in, feeling awful that she had been so nosey and unhelpful so far. "Is he..." she dropped her voice: "Is he struggling with his lessons?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Rosie said sharply. "He's the cleverest in our year. I think he's even cleverer than some of the teachers. Also, he knows-"

"Are you his girlfriend?" Luna interrupted again, remembering how Tom had really insisted on having Rosie as Head Girl instead. "You seem to think highly of him – and he seems quite fond of you!"

Rosie gave her a withering look but two pink spots appeared high on her cheeks as though she was actually very pleased. "Riddle doesn't have a girlfriend," she said.

"Oh." Luna hopped down from the bench and crouched on the floor. She wriggled her arm through the narrow slits in the fencing, extending her hand to the water to trace her fingers delicately over the surface. "Maybe you will be."

"He doesn't want, nor does he need, a girlfriend," Rosie bit out. She closed her mirror with an aggressive snap and pocketed it. She stood, dusting off her skirt. "I don't suppose he ever will, either. He's not inclined to change. Anyway, this is all perfectly irrelevant as I'm not interested in him that way."

Luna squeezed her arm back through the fencing and shook off the water beading her fingertips. "I'm afraid I'm not very good with romantics," she said pensively, drying her hand on her shirt, "but I'm sure he'd been absolutely delighted to-"

However, when she looked up, Rosie was no longer in the pagoda with her and as she twisted to look towards the shore, she saw the other girl stalking back over the bridge. Perhaps Luna had accidentally upset her. She felt a twinge of remorse within her; she hadn't intended to do any such thing.

Nonetheless, she felt fairly confident that Rosie was worrying for no reason. Tom was a lovely boy and she was sure that they would be very happy together one day.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Garbed in a shapeless orange dress and feeling fresh with a sense of autumn that buzzed right through her every cell, Luna skipped down the stairs into the Head common room, two at a time.

Tom was nowhere to be seen but, glancing up towards his chamber, she saw that his door was tightly closed and she supposed that he was concentrated on his studies in there. She would have gone to ask if he was certain that he didn't wish to come to the Slug Club as well but remembered Rosie's warning about interrupting him. Luna supposed he could always come some other time. Maybe he would regret his decision to stay behind when she came home telling of all the fun she'd had.

Either way, she really hadn't time to dillydally before the party started; she checked the heavy pocket-watch that she had cast around her neck to prevent it being lost and hurried on out.

Last light was falling half-heartedly through the windows. It was that uncertain time of day that Luna loved, when the sun is going to bed and the stars are just starting to peep out from their blankets of lilac near-darkness. Away from the quietly humming fire of her bedroom, Luna felt goosebumps rising on her skin from the chilly twilight air, but the cold only added a feeling of excitement that ran all the way up from her toes.

As she descended the flight of the stairs into the Entrance Hall, it crossed her mind that it seemed a crying shame to waste such a lovely evening underground in a dank dungeon. Nonetheless, she had promised Fitz that she would be there and, anyway, she daren't disobey the school rules by not attending the party.

The Slug Club was being hosted in Slughorn's usual classroom but had been transformed to look much more appealing. It was cleaner than normal, with only the slightest remaining odour of burnt tentacles wafting through; most of the tables had disappeared, leaving only a few behind which were elegantly clothed and laden with food. Purple velvet curtains had been put up to soften the harsh stone walls and also created little alcoves where clusters of friends could hide away.

Luna was standing idly in the doorway, blue eyes flickering from place to place, when something grabbed her by the elbow. She was tugged into one of the alcoves so quickly that she left a shoe behind, and, once there, saw Fitz standing by her. He was wearing that lopsided smile again and lifted his eyebrows at her as if to say _well, fancy seeing you here!_

"Hello Fitz," she said brightly. "Why did you drag me in here?"

"To hide from Slughorn – or worse, one of the bizarre 'friends' that he manages to accumulate," Fitz explained with an exaggerated shudder.

"I lost my shoe," she said, glancing over her shoulder at where it was still sitting on the floor. It looked very sad and lonely.

He nodded in rueful acknowledgement. "Sacrifices have to be made." He then plopped himself down on a table, topped with small glass jars hastily pushed aside.

Luna looked back at her abandoned shoe. It had been accidentally kicked by a scuffle of younger students coming through the door and was now peeking, barely visible, from beneath of fold of curtains lining the far wall.

"Am I ever going to get my shoe back?" she wondered aloud to herself, her mind flashing with blurry images of traipsing through the castle barefoot in search of her possessions. "Normally when I lose a shoe I never see it again. I quite like those shoes."

"I'm afraid not." Fitz settled comfortably against the wall. "It looks like we'll have to stay here forever."

Her eyes flashed between him in the alcove and the world outside. "There's food outside as well," she said with more than a note of sadness and longing in her voice.

As soon as these words had left her mouth, the expression on Fitz' face changed. He became very serious, almost wary as though he scarcely believed it true. Finally, he said slowly, "What... _kind _of food?"

She twisted around again to check the abundantly-stocked buffet table. "Some salad... biscuits... olives... cheese nibbles... cake-"

"_It's show-time_."

Had Luna told him that there was a bomb in one of the small jars around him, she did not think that Fitz would have reacted with more urgency. He brushed her arm again to indicate that she should follow him; he then dashed out of from behind the curtains, flailing like a baby horse on tequila shots as he ran to the next alcove. She slipped out and scurried after him, limping with one bare foot.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"Sshh." Fitz pushed one finger lightly to her lips. "Look." He pointed, directing her gaze to the buffet table and the looming obese menace of Slughorn standing by it. The professor was conversing with some invited celebrity who he was greedily devouring with his eyes. He had never looked more toad-like than he did then. "We're going to have to be sneaky."

"Okay."

"Tell me, Luna," Fitz turned to her, eyes glittering with mischievous exuberance. "Would you be willing to risk life and limb for that cake?"

She thought about this for a second. "Life... no. Limb... well, that depends entirely on which limb. I don't think I would mind giving up my right arm for the cause but any other limb would most probably be out of the question."

"What your freedom and the prospect of having Slughorn interrogate you about every moment of your life thus far and whether or not you're personally acquainted with so-and-so from wherever for the next hour-and-a-half?"

"I suppose so, yes," Luna replied. Her lips cracked into a grin; his borderline-hyperactive excitement was contagious.

"That's good enough for me, then." He rotated her by the shoulders until she was facing the right way, looking towards the table full of food. "Now here's what we're going to do. I will tell Frank Vaisey that I did his sister and then dance like it's 1912; hopefully – _hopefully_ - he will throw something at me in return, which will distract Slughorn. At this point, you change the music to something obscure and discordant. Like... I dunno. Siberian whale song or something. During the distraction that follows, I'll grab your shoe from in front of Slughorn and you'll get the cake. We'll meet back in the first alcove." He tipped his head towards hers with a playfully intense expression in his brown eyes. "You ready to rumble?"

Luna nodded eagerly.

He threw his hands out melodramatically as if giving a royal speech to an audience of waiting followers and declared, "Then let it begin."

As Fitz started hurling insults across the room, she slipped away towards the corner where a magical radio was balanced precariously o top of a shiny black cauldron. She hovered far enough from it not to be suspected as the culprit of what she was about to do and yet close enough to follow the plan.

However, Frank Vaisey, upon being insulted, didn't throw anything. A look of anger flashed through his features but he settled instead for yelling back, "_Piss off_, Sinclair", accompanied by a rude hand gesture and a glare.

"No, really!" Fitz insisted. "She wanted to do it in your bed – I think you were having an argument at the time... I like your pillows, by the way. I really appreciate the taupe with the pale-"

Luna glanced back over one shoulder to see Vaisey rolling up his sleeves as though he was prepared to shove a hand down Fitz' throat in order to strangle him with his own intenstines – and then-

"Fitzgerald!" Professor Slughorn cried, laying eyes on Fitz. "Fancy seeing you here!"

_Fitzgerald?_ Luna eyed Fitz, who had frozen as though he had been noticed by a particularly bad-tempered bear. His eyes flashed to hers in panic but before she could do anything, the tipsy Potions Professor had dragged him away, shaking him amiably by the shoulders and loudly interrogating him about his opinions on minestrone soup.

A small smile spread across Luna's lips. She then realised that she was still standing by the magical radio, wand poised above it, ready to act. A few girls in the younger years were looking at her strangely. She did look rather guilty, she supposed.

"Would you like to listen to some whale song?" she asked hopefully.

The girls left in a hurry. Perhaps they preferred the quiet hum of happy porpoises. Luna put the whale song on anyway and watched as a great number of people crinkled their noises and moved further away.

_Porpoise humming must be quite popular here then,_ she mused. _Maybe there are porpoises in the lake..._

She turned her attention to Fitz instead, watching the awkward way he tried to extract himself from Slughorn's grip. Even when trying to placatingly talk his way away from the drunkard, Fitz would occasionally glance over at her – whether to check that she was still there, or whether she had the cake, or for some other reason, she didn't know... Either way, it was nice.

He finally managed to escape, grabbing the cake tray from the buffet table as he left. He pushed through the curtains with one shoulder and laid the tray carefully on the cupboard where he had been earlier sitting. "Well, that didn't go according to plan," he admitted.

"No, it didn't – Fitzgerald," she added cheekily, throwing his given name on with an overly-innocent bat of her eyelashes.

Fitz groaned, dragging one hand over his face. "Right. Yeah. Fitzgerald."

"Is that your real name?"

"Yeah. It's great, isn't it?" He pulled a face that suggested that his opinion was quiet to the contrary.

"I like it," Luna said thoughtfully. "It's... interesting."

He snorted. "Interesting... maybe. Personally, I'm more inclined towards _verbally hideous_ but I suppose _interesting_ could work as well." He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they were trying to fold away the very essence of his laughter. "To be honest though, I didn't even have it that bad. My sister got stuck with Brunhilde – and there's no getting away from _that_."

"I think a name like that has character," she said, attempting to cut the perfectly-square slices of cakes into dodecahedrons. "It tells a story. Fitzgerald, for example... it just prompts so any questions. No-one really asks twice about a John."

"Well, I guess my mum makes for pretty good stories," he joked. "Afraid of corners and obsessed with giving her children the most revolting names she can think of..." He shook his head with a sigh that told of a great fondness for his mother despite all his teasing and complaining.

"So how old is Brunnie? Hildie? Hilda?" Luna tried, testing it out on her tongue. She had to admit, none of them flowed particularly well.

"Oh, she died," Fitz said, as bluntly as if stating that it was raining or that this morning their table ran out of bacon at breakfast. He cleared his throat slightly and then elaborated: "She became very ill when she was three years old and... Yeah. She would be twelve now though."

"I'm sorry to hear that she left you."

Fitz shrugged and turned grab a huge piece of cake – thankfully, not the one that Luna had so carefully re-cut into a dodecahedron – and then promptly stuffed it in his mouth in one go. "What about your family anyway?"

"What do you mean?" Watching him eat was making her hungry; she reached over to untidily pull a clump of pink frosted icing from the top of the cake and licked it off her fingers.

"What about your family?" Fitz clarified. "Your parents? Siblings? You seem like an older-sister sort of person to me..."

She laughed a little at his generalisations, though for all she knew, he could be absolutely correct. "I don't think so," she said, "I'm not sure though."

A short line creased between his eyebrows. "What?"

"I don't know." Luna rolled crumbs into a ball between her index finger and thumb. "It's hard to remember. And I get very... confused... sometimes."

There was a rush of dissonant sound in her head like the crackle of a broken radio turned up suddenly from mute to high. Her vision wheeled and throbbed; a hand drifted outwards in an unconscious attempt to steady herself.

_**Luna. Books. Butterfly. Falling. THUD.**_

_**Luna. The library. Getting books for a friend. Stretching twisting falling. THUD.**_

_**THUD.**_

_**The sky outside was dark, though not with night. It was dark with smoke. Dark with fire.**_

_**Something was waiting.**_

She blinked, bewildered.

"Oh." Fitz dusted crumbs from his hands and trousers, and he stretched back against the wall. "Well, give me something to work with, new girl. What about your old school? You transferred from Beauxbatons, right?"

"No," she blurted out, eyes widening at the unexpected ferocity of her conviction. "No, I didn't go there. I know I didn't. I came _here_."

Fitz just looked at her, tilting his head slightly to one side like a confused Spaniel. "You came here?"

"I remember things I shouldn't remember," Luna said slowly, struggling to find the words to explain. Every syllable was like dragging stones through fog and mud. "I _know_ things I shouldn't know. I..." She screwed her face up, fighting. "I... can't remember... _anything_ – but-"

"Okay, don't hurt yourself." Fitz touched her hand carefully, bringing her back. She looked up sharply, startled. "It should be okay eventually." He was smiling and she felt safe. She stared uncertainly back at him until a hot flush came up high on his cheeks; he dropped his hand away from hers.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly, noticing his embarrassment. "Did I make you uncomfortable? I didn't mean to."

"You know..." Fitz gave her an appraising look, eyebrows cocked. "No," he decided, bumping her with his shoulder. "Don't worry. You didn't make me uncomfortable at all."

"Good." She settled back against the wall and looked over at him with a smile that lit up both their faces. "Shall we get more cake?"

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait. I have the next chapter already though, so I should be updating promptly.**


	7. My Little Birdie

**A/N: **Hello! I hope this has been updated faster than usual. I am in the process of writing about four projects all at the same time. By the way, as to someone (I forget who... sorry) who reviewed saying that Luna was a bit out-of-character... yeah, I know she is. Sadly, most of my fics have very out-of-character protagonists but I only do it because I either A) don't like the way the original character was portrayed, as with Ginny in the Rewind Trilogy, or B) because I need that characterisation to make the story work, as with Ultimatum. I hope that clears things up. Anyway. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Seven: My Little Birdie**

_Rosie ignored her. She continued powdering her face and then launched into monologue that seemed too fluid to not have been rehearsed. "Luna, you seem nice but I thought I should talk to you about Riddle. He works very hard; he does a lot of extracurricular things as well as schoolwork and being Head Boy so he's always very busy. Now this may seem a bit antisocial but you really shouldn't interrupt him at all. Don't interfere with his work or he'll be really upset, and then-"_

"_I remember things I shouldn't remember," Luna said slowly, struggling to find the words to explain. Every syllable was like dragging stones through fog and mud. "I know things I shouldn't know. I..." She screwed her face up, fighting. "I... can't remember... anything – but-"_

"_Okay, don't hurt yourself." Fitz touched her hand carefully, bringing her back. She looked up sharply, startled. "It should be okay eventually." He was smiling and she felt safe. She stared uncertainly back at him until a hot flush came up high on his cheeks; he dropped his hand away from hers._

**xXx**

At eleven o'clock, with many drunken, hand-flourishing _thank-you_s on Professor Slughorn's behalf, the party ended and all the students were ushered back into the cold hallway and home.

"Goodbye!" he cried as Luna and Fitz went past. His eyes brimmed with tears and he clung unsteadily to the doorframe for support. However, his bulky shape filled most of the doorway and so everyone was forced to suck in their stomachs in difficult attempts to squeeze past; the escape also had to be well-timed as every time that he dragged in another shuddery breath in advance of more sentimental shouting, his gut would inflate temporarily, squashing whoever was passing through the doorway at that time. "It was lovely to see you all," he sobbed. "Truly lovely – t-t-thank you so much."

Fitz and Luna managed to get out unnoticed between yells and headed up the stone steps back to the Entrance Hall, Slughorn's emotional calls fading into echoes of "_lovely!"_ behind them. They walked in silence for a while, mostly concentrating on trying to stick together in bustling jumble of intoxicated teenagers dispersing in various directions.

As they reached the first floor corridor, the crowd had disintegrated into small clumps of friends walking back together to their respective rooms. The noise level decreased considerably, especially as their quick sober step took over and left behind other students.

"So what do you think then?" Fitz asked. The distance between them and anyone else was now so great that nothing could be heard except their footsteps and the sound of soft wind playing on the windowpanes.

Luna looked over at him, surprised at the strange question. "I think a lot of things," she said thoughtfully. "I think that I should like to buy a big straw hat before the nice weather is all gone. I think that if there are jam tarts again at breakfast tomorrow, I'll be very happy. I think that the flowers I have in my room are probably wilting and that maybe in the morning I'll go down and-"

"No, no," Fitz cut in, laughing a little. "I meant _tonight_. What do you think of the Slug Club?"

"_Ohh_." This was a question that made more sense. "Hm. I don't know." She lifted a hand to the wall and let her fingertips dance lightly over the stone as she walked, observing the shadows made by the flickering lights. "I think that Slughorn drank rather too much," she said dreamily, "and I think that the icing on that cake had perhaps too much butter in it, but that it was delicious all the same, and I'm glad that we managed to steal it."

Fitz was still shaking his head, though a hint of a grin continued to play upon his face. "Something personal," he clarified. "I didn't ask for a running commentary of every thought, figment or idea that ran through your brain tonight – just... okay then, how do you _feel_ about tonight?"

Luna stopped walking for a moment to consider this. Fitz paused a couple of steps ahead of her and turned back. "Happy," Luna decided, a smile flickering across her lips and lighting up her face with a glow from within that is only achieved by late nights, excess of sugar and good company.

"_There _we go," Fitz said. "Merlin, that was almost an interrogation. Had I known that I'd practically have to torture your emotions out of you, I don't know if I'd have asked!" He encouraged her to keep walking, as it was now well past curfew and they were still only on the sixth-floor; he took a few steps backwards, oblivious to what was behind him, and as a result he crashed into a suit of armour.

"Look out-" Luna yelped but by that point it was too late; the knight toppled over and fell in a disorganised heap on the floor with clatters and bangs loud enough to wake the entire castle.

She rushed forwards to collect the pieces of the knight and try to reassemble it, but as soon as she touched the headpiece it came alive. The mouth-guard snapped at her and a deep, angry voice bellowed, "_Intruder... intruder..._" repeatedly.

"No, we're not intruders," she tried to explain to the headpiece as it gravitated back towards the other pieces and fit itself back together. "We're just-"

"Just go!" Fitz exclaimed, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. "Just leave it – run!"

Not knowing what else to do, Luna obeyed; she leapt nimbly over the remaining scattered pieces of metal and sprinted after Fitz.

"_Who's there?"_ rasped a suspicious voice from far behind them: Apollyon Pringle, the caretaker. His loud footsteps resonated off the floor and ceiling as he hurried after them.

Fitz and Luna ran together to the end of the corridor, up the high stairs and around the corner into the short hallway on the seventh-floor. Luna was running on to the stone wall behind which the Head common room was concealed, but at the brightly lit portrait for the Gryffindor common room, the Fat Lady, Fitz snatched at her arm again and stopped her.

"Luna-" he started.

"Yes?" she turned back to look at him, blood rushing frantically through her. She could hear Pringle beginning to ascend the steps up to the seventh-floor, and she supposed it was a mixture of adrenaline and fear that raised goosebumps on her arm where it made contact with Fitz' hand.

"Erm – bye," he said quickly and then released her, opening the portrait hole into his common room and disappearing inside.

It was a very hasty, informal farewell considering that they had spent the whole evening together, but Luna understood the necessity. She dashed the short distance to the end of the hall, frantically whispered the password, and pushed in before Pringle reached the top of the stairs.

When the opening in the wall slid closed behind Luna, she was left in complete eerie darkness. There was no comforting glow of soft candles from above and in its stead was a faint dusty smell of wax and wicks. The lights had all been out for at least two hours. She doubted that Tom had gone to bed early; he didn't seem the type for long rests.

She remained with her back pressed against the doorway for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Then, lighting her wand with a whispered, "_Lumos_", she began to carefully climb the steps up to the common room. In the fireplace there still smouldered a few of the most determined embers, but otherwise the room was cool. Before re-establishing warmth and light to the room, she crossed to the bottom of the stairs up to Tom's room and looked up. No light sneaked beneath or around the sides of his door.

_I thought he said that he was going to study..._ she mused to herself for a moment, wondering where he was if not in either of the rooms allocated to him as Head Boy. Slowly it dawned on her: if he had claimed to be studying... and was not here... and was not in his room...

He must be in the library.

It was quite silly that she hadn't thought of it sooner. It was really the only logical explanation for his absence. She relit the candles and the fire with a few ambiguously-aimed flicks of her wand (it was quite hard to place the locations of each mounted candle-stick in the gloom) and then felt much more settled.

Luna started to head towards her own room to go to bed, already feeling yawns tugging at the corners of her mouth. However, as she neared the stairs she reasoned that Tom would probably regret having missed the Slug Club party and that if she waited up for him to return from the library, she could tell him all about it and invite him to the next one.

She spun like a ballerina on one foot back to face the common room and instead selected a large comfy armchair close to the recharging fire. She contorted comfortably into it like a beetle cast struggling onto its back; her torso tucked away neatly over the cushion, her head and legs rising above her ungracefully. From that position she Summoned the Hogwarts rulebook to her. She saw no reason why she couldn't have a social life as Fitz demanded while still performing her duties as Head Girl... she was certain that Tom must have read the rulebook from cover to cover several times by now, and she flipped it eagerly open, determined not to fall behind.

**xXx**

With a clunky and graceless transition from evening to morning, she found herself waking in a heap on the carpet to the sound of running water.

Confused for a moment, she blinked blearily, pushing her hair out of her face with hands that felt like warm rubber. Then she remembered – she had been waiting for Tom to return to the common room and must have fallen asleep while reading.

Awareness came flooding back to her, bringing sunshiney energy with it. There was a stabbing pain in her lower back as she sat up, which, when she reached around, she discovered to be caused by lying on the corner of the now-bent copy of the school rules. "Oops," she said, straightening it. She bobbed quickly about the room tidying and then scurried upstairs to change her clothes as she realised that she was still wearing the somewhat cake-dirtied clothes of the party the night before.

By the time she returned to the common room (neglecting to brush her hair – she didn't have time but it didn't matter anyway as long as she had a tin charm in one pocket to keep sparrows from laying eggs in it), Tom was standing in front of the hall mirror, neatly knotting his tie.

"Good morning!" she said brightly. "How was the library?"

Tom looked over at her coldly. "The library?" he echoed.

Luna frowned as she grabbed some spare parchment from the desk, stashing it inside her schoolbag. "Were you not in the library last night? You weren't here all evening... you'd said that you would be studying, so I assume you were at the library?"

"No." He turned back to his reflection, tweaking his collar. "There was a party in Slytherin house that I felt obliged to attend." His words were brisk and clipped; she felt that he perhaps didn't want to discuss it anymore. Nonetheless, she was curious:

"Was everyone there? What did you do?" she asked. "Was there cake?"

The Head Boy was disappearing down the stairs to the seventh-floor corridor, leaving her behind. Luna grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder and hurried after him.

"Hey, wait for me, silly!" she exclaimed. She slapped him playfully on the arm as she caught up with him mid-hallway. "I was talking to you; it's quite antisocial to just walk off, you know."

Tom stopped walking dead in the middle of the hallway and stared down at her. Their expression was no warmer than usual; in fact, she would have said it was colder, were it not for the glint of a challenge also there. She became abruptly very conscious of the back of her hand still brushing against his sleeve.

"You should at least apologise," she said softly. She made no movement to shift her hand, nor did she take her eyes from his.

"I've never been one for convention," he replied coolly. He turned, not towards the stairs at the end of the corridor as she had expected, but to the wall on his right. He lifted a tapestry that depicted a lion smothering a cub under either paw; it revealed a narrow staircase behind it, and he began to descend.

Luna followed him. She understood now how he could disappear so quickly whenever he left the common room and she wondered how many other secret passageways he knew of in the castle. They emerged from the long, winding tunnel onto the third-floor, behind a statue that Luna had always thought was somewhat out of place, but when she made this comment to Tom, he didn't seem to be listening.

"You really are quite rude this morning," she chided him. "If I didn't know better, I'd-"

"Christopher," he said, interrupting her. Her name rolled off his tongue like velvet rubbed the wrong way. "You make the mistake of assuming I give a damn."

"My, Tom, you do have the _loveliest _way of buttering others up," she teased him. "You really are in a grumpy mood today. And after I waited up all night for you that I could say hello when you came in! I must have fallen asleep before you arrived, mind you... It's a shame, really –I had ever so much to tell you. It doesn't matter though, because I was reading the Hogwarts rulebook at the same time. I'm so glad that I did – I've learnt so much. Did you know that since 1894 it's been against the rules to use a live chicken as a pillow? I can't help wonder who did it the first time, but as silly as it seems, I can imagine that a live chicken would be quite comfortable – if not for the squawking and-"

"What a fascinating story," Tom said sardonically from in front of her. "Pray tell it again."

She continued to chatter regardless of his sarcasm. Sleeping like a beetle had given her more energy than when she normally slept in a bed, and she was full to the brim of enthusiasm. However, she was forced by her own good manners to stop talking when they arrived in the Entrance Hall and, rounding the grand stair banister, bumped into Professor Slughorn. He seemed to have sobered up slightly since the night before and was much less absorbed with telling everyone how fabulous they were, which Luna was thankful to see. On the other hand, he was just a little bit hungover.

"Good morning!" she sang, dipping into a curtsey. "Are you coming to breakfast?"

"No, no, I don't think I could stand to eat anything," he mumbled. "Given the way my head feels this morning, eating anything would probably just make me sick, Miss..." He screwed his eyes up against the sunlight pouring through the doors, trying to see who he was talking to, "Christopher!" He jabbed a finger at her. "I have a bone to pick with you. Why were you not at my dear Slug Club yesterday? I had so hoped to see you there..."

"I was there, sir," she said. "Perhaps you don't remember because of how much you drank. I ate most of the cake though."

"Oh." Slughorn frowned. "Maybe you were there. I... hmm." He looked over then at Tom. "_You_, though – you definitely weren't there." Then uncertainty crept across his pudgy features. "Were you?"

"No, sir," Tom said respectfully. "If you recall, I said that I would be studying and that is where I was. I'm afraid that my academics are my main priority, but hopefully next time I'll be able to attend."

"Of course, of course..." Slughorn nodded, but the action caused him to turn pale as though he was going to throw up. "If you'll excuse me now, you two," he choked out, "I'm off to see if Madam Jones has any cure for my... eh, _ailment_." With that, he hurried away up the stairs as fast as his fat stumpy feet could carry him.

Tom moved as though to continue to the Great Hall, but Luna twisted to face him, blocking his path.

"What are you doing, Christopher?" he asked irritably. His lips pressed into a thin, tight line.

She glanced over his shoulder to check that Slughorn was out of earshot before returning her disapproving gaze to Tom. "You lied to him," she said in a low voice.

_**A man looked kindly at her with the same unusually-wide blue eyes as always stared back at her in mirrors. "Luna, my dear, dishonesty is next to murder. The truth can never hurt as much as a shattered lie."**_

He arched one eyebrow. "Thank you for enlightening me, Christopher," he replied. "Merlin only knows what I would do without your razor-sharp intuition."

"Tom Riddle," she said sharply, "I will tolerate your aloofness, I will tolerate your mood-swings and your antisocial behaviour - I will even tolerate your complete inability to rinse the sink after you clean your teeth - but I will not tolerate you lying through your teeth in front of me. If I ever see you lying to someone else again when I know the truth, I will tell them."

Remorse and fear did not flash through his features as she had hoped it might. Aside from hints of amusement and boredom, her words had almost no impact on his expression. "Is that a threat or a challenge?"

"That was a _threat_ and I promise that-"

Tom's eyes rolled. "Clearly I should have rearranged my schedule to accommodate the Honesty Police," he said boredly. "Perhaps I was only following influence; may I point out that you lied first?"

Her eyebrows lifted, surprised and hurt. "I didn't lie," she said, bewildered.

"What?" Tom's brow creased. He stared at her for a moment, seemingly uncomprehending what she meant. "Then... you _did_ go to Slughorn's ridiculous club."

"Yes, I did," she said, bridling a little at his disparaging tone, "and for your information, I had a really nice time – thank you for asking," she added pointedly.

A cold derisive laugh burst from Tom's lips. "Your ignorance would almost be cute," he sneered, "were it not disgusting."

Despite being unsure why she felt an overpowering urge to justify herself, she said, "I hadn't intended to go, but Fitzgerald Sinclair reminded me that Rule 274 Section A says that new students cannot turn down a direct invitation to a party, and I for one don't intend to break any school rules within the first two weeks."

At this, something like pleasure crept stealthily across Tom's face, but Luna searched his eyes and found them empty. "Well, haven't the tables turned?" he said. "You criticise me about lying to others but you, you poor blind fool," his words were sweet to excess, so sugary that they cut like acid, "have been lied to yourself."

"Sorry?"

"There is no Rule 274 – and there is certainly no Section A." He neatly sidestepped her. "You ought to pick your fights more carefully – or at least check your own sword." He looked down at her over his shoulder, and, with a smirk, said, "And by the way... challenge accepted."

Luna stood for a moment, her head a blend of confusion and hurt pride. It took her a moment to dwell on what he had just said; by the time she even reacted, much less had a response, he was long gone, and the most she could do was trail dejectedly into the Great Hall behind him.

Fitz had lied to her. Admittedly, it was hardly a great, life-altering lie, but she had only known him a day and she felt quite down-hearted that someone she would come to like so much had lied to her in order to get her to come to a party. Then again, on the other hand, she supposed that it was a rather nice of him... as far as she could remember, she'd never had anyone go to such extravagant lengths to ensure her participation in a social event. Maybe she now had a real friend in Fitz. She was just undecided in general.

At the Ravenclaw table, she sought out Rosie Veitch as someone to sit by and located her quickly sitting in what she had come to term as the Health Binge. The Health Binge was the end of the table closest to the teachers, and it was not only where all the salads and light breakfasts were, but it was also where the more popular Ravenclaw students convened in the mornings. Going that great length to get to the end of the table in itself required considerable self-confidence, as it meant walking from upwards of thirty seconds in front of the entire House (as well as anyone else in other Houses who happened to be paying attention) to be judged, instead of slipping in through the doors and sitting in the first seat available.

Luna made her way slowly there, still dwelling on which side to take regarding what Fitz had said to her, and was still caught up in her own world when she reached the Health Binge.

"-going to sit down or not?"

She looked up, snapping back into reality, and found not only Rosie but a number of other students staring at her. "Oh yes, of course," she said gratefully. She wondered how long she had been standing there.

Most of those already seated still looked awkward and unsettled by her bizarre entrance. Mona Keoghwas determinedly avoiding eye contact, scraping butter from her toast and smearing it on the side of her plate; there were a number of other whom she had met briefly. She recalled Irene Pasquale, a tall shiny-haired girl with a penchant for imitating everything that Rosie did, and Walter Donovan, another who doted on her albeit in his own slightly rude way. Beatrice Woodrow was fluffing her hair and loudly discussing in dramatic tones how she'd been near-attacked by a _gorgeous_ boy on the way downstairs; Irene listened half-interestedly, still watching Rosie. Two boys whose names evaded Luna sat on the other side of the table, picking at their food but saying little.

"So," Rosie started, twirling her fork absent-mindedly around her plate, "a little birdie told meyou went to the Slug Club last night."

"What little birdie?" asked Luna. She reached for a croissant, lifting her sleeve to keep it from getting in the marmalade. "Was it a magpie? I know that magpies are particularly bad at keeping secrets... but birds in general are quite untrustworthy."

The others around the table tittered; they threw each other narrow-eyed glances and pursed their lips to keep laughter in.

Without taking her eyes from Luna, Rosie suddenly stabbed down at her plate, impaling a tomato. The laughter cut off. "Girls," she said sweetly, tilting her head to one side, "I'm trying to have a conversation."

Beatrice coughed awkwardly and turned to the dark-skinned one of the two boys whose names Luna could not recall; she then began again her discussion of the strange boy she was madly in love with, this time in hushed tones. The others hovered like vultures around what Rosie and Luna were saying.

"But yes, I did go to the Slug Club," Luna continued. "Why does everyone treat it as though it's such a bad thing?"

"Well... it _is_ and it _isn't_. As you may have noticed, Slughorn only invites those who he thinks are important or who later will be important – the rich, the famous, relations of the famous, the talented, etcetera. It used to be a highly prestigious event... the place where the truly great convened, if you like," Rosie said. She carefully prised the split tomato from her fork and left it one side of her plate, as though setting an example to the rest of the salad. "Of course, I was invited many times... but that was a few years ago. Since then it's declined rapidly. More people are let in. _Less worthy_ people are let in. Slughorn gets raving drunk and becomes an overly-sentimental embarrassment to himself and everyone who knows him."

Irene gave a low groan of revulsion. She downed the rest of her juice in one as though trying to drown her shudders of dislike. Rosie eyes flashed, irritated at having been interrupted but, ignoring the other girl completely, continued.

"You see, it's one thing to be invited to a party for only the brilliant, as chosen by the best Professor in the school... quite another thing to be invited to a messy evening with idiots who don't deserve to be associated with us." Rosie shrugged. "The Houses that had any sense created their own hierarchies and abandoned the Slug Club - except for a few who occasionally go to see if anything of interest is going on." Her eyebrows lifted knowingly. "My little birdie, for example."

Luna frowned. It was easy enough to meet a bird in passing, say hello and be given a secret in exchange – but to control them to do as they were bidden seemed gratuitously difficult.

"Anyway, the Club is primarily a _Gryffindor_ gathering now," Rosie finished. Her tone of voice implied that she held Gryffindors in roughly the same esteem as head lice.

This also didn't make sense. From the scattered memories that Luna was left to sift through, piecing history together, she knew that Slytherins and Gryffindors were rivals... but Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were supposed to be friends with everyone. It was just bizarre.

"What's wrong with Gryffindors?" she asked.

"For the main part, they're insufferable," Walter offered with a snort of derisive laughter.

"They're loud, obnoxious, graceless-" Rosie listed apathetically, gesturing in the air with her fork at every word; Irene copied every word, nodding to show how absolutely right Rosie was.

"They're always joking around and playing tricks-"

"-infantile-"

"-rule-breakers-"

"-but at the same time, irritating do-gooders-"

"Well, I've-" Luna began defensively but cut herself off. She had been about to say that she had met a very nice Gryffindor, but at the moment, she wasn't so sure that he was.

Beatrice leaned eagerly across the table towards her, twirling a teaspoon between two fingers. "Yes?"

Luna stood up so suddenly that she knocked over a goblet of pumpkin juice, throwing the drink all over the boy next to Rosie. "Oh no!" she cried, pulling on the ends of her blonde hair. "I completely forgot about our Dolceras!"

"Your what?" Beatrice echoed, her nose crinkling in confusion.

However, Luna did not pause to elaborate. She gabbled out, "Terribly sorry but I have to go – I really do – it's been lovely talking to you all though!", grabbing her schoolbag and then rushed out of the Great Hall as fast as her feet could carry her.

She hurried out of the castle and down the crunchy gravel path towards the greenhouses, weaving deftly through small clumps of people – mostly couples making the rounds of gazing at the sun and picking flowers. The greenhouses were still cold from the night, glistening with dew like crystal beads over every surface. She pushed through the door, almost bumping into a Venomous Flytrap in her haste, and hastened through to where the Dolceras were growing, only to find...

"Fitz." Luna stopped in her tracks, at a loss of what to say or do.

He looked up, surprised. Dirt was smeared across his nose and one cheek. Upon seeing her, he rubbed at one eye; it became immediately apparent how his face had become so filthy. "Hi," he said, breaking into a broad smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to look after the Dolceras," she said, though she was fairly certain that this much should already have been obvious. She waved one hand ambiguously through the air. "I take it that's why you're here too...?"

"Yup." He nodded, pulling a face. "Looks like I beat you to it," he teased. "You'll have to look out or Baby Precious might pick favourites."

"Oh." Luna turned her attention to a wilting begonia plant next to her. She poured some water onto it from the tip of her wand. "We should really make a proper schedule, I suppose."

"Yeah." Fitz yawned, stretching. "I am not going to get up this early every day, I'll tell you that now. I was having a great dream. X-rated, but we won't go into that." He grinned but then his face fell when he saw that she was paying him no mind, instead playing with the leaves of the dying begonia. "Damn. That didn't provoke you. Are you alright?"

She looked up slowly. "You lied to me," she said.

"What? When?" Fitz' brows furrowed in bewilderment.

"Rule 274 Section A," she said, lifting her chin defiantly. "You told me that I had to go to that Slug Club yesterday or I'd be breaking the rules. There's no such rule."

"What? But – I was only teasing... I didn't think you'd actually... actually... _b-believe _me..." he said with a slight laugh, though he seemed nervous.

"Do you lie often?" Luna asked. She still wasn't sure if his untruths meant that he was a bad person who lied or a good friend who really wanted to be with her at the Slug Club, but she was working on it.

"No," he said, somewhat incredulously. He spoke slowly. It took him a long time to get his words out. "I ... I d-don't like lying. I'm not very good at it, for one thing. No-one ever takes me seriously – especially not as I get this... this... d-damn stutter whenever I get – sort of-"

He seemed to be struggling greatly for words so Luna took pity on him. "I'm sorry for upsetting you if it makes you..." she observed his flushed, uncomfortable face, "...stutter-y. I didn't realise you had a speech impediment," she added with curiosity.

"No, it's fine... I ... I d-don't really have a speech impediment. Not anymore, anyway." He scratched awkwardly at the back of his head, still red-faced. He turned away to fiddle again with the Dolceras. "I had a problem as a kid but I had therapy to help me get over it... it just comes... b-back sometimes."

"Like when you get accused of lying?" she asked, wondering if that happened a lot.

"No," he said with a snort of laughter. "No, just... when I get upset or anything. _B'_s, _D_'s and _P's _are the biggest ...problems." The last word was difficult; he paused but managed to force it out quietly. After that he seemed to recover. Either way, he shrugged off the whole incident, measuring out water for their new plant. "Anyway, I'm sorry that I lied to you – though I didn't, not really. I was only teasing." He jabbed her with the dusty end of a trowel. "It's not my fault if you're a _little_ bit gullible."

"I'm not gullible, am I?" she wondered aloud, frowning. That didn't seem like a particularly good thing to be. Suppose someone took advantage of her or something!

"Yeah, I'm afraid you are."

"Oh. Okay." She would really have to sort that out. What if people had been teasing her all along? She was saddened to think that all of these nice new acquaintances she had made, who might even have been friends, might have just been stringing her along because she was gullible...

"See what I mean?" Fitz exclaimed. "You're not supposed to sit there and take it! You're supposed to say '_I'm not gullible'_ or something. Fight back. Don't always be so nice."

Luna was taken aback. "But I like being nice to people," she insisted.

"Of course you do, love." He came up behind her, grabbing her shoulders and steering her out of the greenhouses. "I don't know if you have anything better to do here but I've finished with Baby Precious, so I'm off up to the castle."

He let go just before the door, wiping off the bits of soil and leaves that he'd accidentally smeared over the back of her robes, and they walked side-by-side back up towards the Entrance Hall. Their fingers brushed as they walked.

**xXx**

**A/N: I'll be trying to update this as regularly as possible. Trying being the operative word. Please review! (:**


	8. Making Progress

**A/N: **Hello! I'm not really sure what to say here today... except that I'll be away for the next four days, so the next update won't be until Wednesday at the very earliest. So here you go – as you may know if you've read any of my stuff before, I like a lot of exposition before things start getting crazy but by my standards, eight chapters isn't too bad. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Eight: Making Progress**

"_So," Rosie started, twirling her fork absent-mindedly around her plate, "a little birdie you went to the Slug Club last night."_

_Fitz let go just before the door, wiping off the bits of soil and leaves that he'd accidentally smeared over the back of her robes, and they walked side-by-side back up towards the Entrance Hall. Their fingers brushed as they walked._

**xxx**

Luna was rinsing the last lilac bubbles from her hair when she heard the slam of the door on the other side that indicated Tom leaving his bedroom. She kneaded roughly at her eyes to get the soap out of them so that she could see and then glanced over at the loudly-ticked clock on the shelf. It was nine-thirty – the time when Tom usually left to study.

_Godamnit_, she thought angrily. She'd specifically asked Tom if she could study with him tonight; she had two essays to write and she'd thought that some alone time in the library would be an excellent opportunity to get to know him better. He seemed to have taken heed of none of her wishes however and it was infuriating.

She squished her hair, still slightly soapy, up on top of her head and leapt out of the bathtub, skidding on the damp tiles and nearly smacking her head on the sink. "Tom," she called out, "wait – just a second – don't – just – _wait_!"

She threw her clothes on and sprinted down the stairs, being careful not to slip on the smooth steps. As she reached the common room, she spied a pile of parchment and textbooks sitting neglected on the main table that she recognised as Tom's, which was even stranger. It wasn't like him to forget things. Still rearranging her untidy clothes – she was fairly certain that something was on backwards or inside out - she scooped up as much of the books as she could with her free hand and raced out of the door after him.

"_Tom!_" she shouted, bursting out of the doorway in the wall just as he opened the passageway behind the lion tapestry. "Tom, for God's sake, _wait._"

The Head Boy turned to look back at her. "What the devil is wrong with you?" he exclaimed, scowling.

"Firstly," Luna said irritably, marching after him, her wet feet leaving prints on the cold flagstones, "I thought we'd agreed that we were going to study in the library _together_ so I don't know why you're sneaking off so quickly. And secondly," she took a step closer to him, lifting her chin, "you forget all of your books, you numpty."

"Numpty," Tom repeated, staring down at her. His jaw was set but his eyes were wide and dark and flashed with something that Luna had only before seen living in shadows in the back of his thoughts. Something dark and powerful that opened her eyes wide and made her breathe slow and her fingers buzz.

"Yes," she said firmly. Her mouth was strangely dry. She held the pile of books out to him. "Here."

Tom's eyes flickered downwards, roving leisurely over the damp shoulders and water-beaded arms exposed below the wide straps of her blue dress. "I don't want the books," he said coldly, meeting her eyes again. "I'm not going to the library. I'm going to another Slytherin party... it seems that a party is _just no fun _without me there." He tilted his head sideways slightly, like a predator considering its prey, and for some reason, Luna thought he was mocking her.

"Oh." Luna cleared her throat. "Well, then. Have fun, I suppose." She took a step back, tearing her eyes away from his. "I'll see you later – or tomorrow, seeing as you always come back so late."

He didn't reply but a slight smirk twitched at his lips, as though smug at having accomplished something – though what it was, Luna had no idea - before he turned and disappeared into the wall.

Luna's shoulders sank slightly. She felt unsettled down to her stomach and her head was buzzing like the Wrackspurt Armageddon had started. She shifted the textbooks awkwardly in her arms and headed back up to the Head common room; from there she continued straight up the stairs to Tom's bedroom, deciding that even if he was going to leave his things sprawled carelessly all over the place, she would not. Perhaps he would get it into his head to be a bit tidier because, quite frankly, she was tired of his mess.

His bedroom was dark, the curtains still drawn, and musty like old socks. She balanced the books neatly on the floor-

_**Setting a pile of books on the floor to stand on top. Stretching twisting falling. Butterflies.**_

_**Bang.**_

_**There was a noise behind her.**_

_**The title that she wanted jumped out at her: **__**KARAWAN.**_

_**Something was waiting.**_

_**Bang.**_

-and, the abrupt memories settling to the back of her mind to be contemplated later, so used to them was she now, she flicked her wand.

A window flew open, releasing clouds of dust like second-hand smoke breath, and a few lungfuls of fresh air twisted in. It being dark outside, no light crept in anyway, even when Luna waved her wand at the oil-lamp to turn it on, but she began to plan ways in which she could use candles and lamps and lanterns to beat the darkness.

However, with the addition of the oil-lamp, there was enough light for casting shadows and as Luna crouched to replace Tom's textbooks on the lower bookshelf, she saw shadows caught in grooves and notches on the wall behind the bookcase. She set the books on the floor again and stretched back to run her fingertips lightly along the scratches. They were deep and rough, as though someone had been haphazardly dragging something along the surface without little care for what was destroyed.

She bent lower, peering through the slats in the bookshelves to see what could have caused such grooves. There were large pins holding the wood together that she figured would fit approximately into the spaces carved into the wall.

_I shouldn't really be snooping around in Tom's bedroom_, she thought, chewing anxiously on her lower lip. What did it matter if he had been moving his furniture around? Perhaps he'd dropped a quill down the back. It was unimportant.

Luna restored the remainder of the textbooks and parchment to the shelf and went through the joining bathroom doors to her own room. She then eyed her own bookshelf, suddenly considering the possibility that there could be something very similar in her own room.

Piling her still-soapy hair up on top of her head, she set about removing the books from the bookcase as she wasn't strong enough to move it while full. However, thankfully, she hadn't acquired many books, having only lived in the room for a month, and there wasn't much to relocate.

Once empty, the bookcase slid smoothly across the floor, fitting neatly into grooves on the floor that had been worn in by the repetition of this action over many centuries; on the wall behind, there were dents in the wall from the wood-pins similar to ones in Tom's wall.

And in the wall was a door.

It was well-concealed; the frame of the door appeared perfectly like the gaps between flagstones and it was only when the bookcase was moved that a small dent in the wall was visible, worn smooth with fingerprints. It was this dent into which Luna crammed her fingers and then tugged the door open.

A cold wind rushed through her skin, having been trapped behind the door for a lot time, dragging at her hair and dress when finally free. Immediately through the door were steps and steps winding down in a tight coil. It was very dark and the light from Luna's lamps only went so far before giving up in the gloom and chill.

_How exciting_, she thought delightedly, and was pulling out her wand to light the way down the steps when she heard low voices.

She paused at the head of the stairs. She held her wand tight in one hand but did not light it. She crept silently down the steps, feeling her way down the wall. The stairs seemed to go on for miles until her feet ached and her knees trembled but at least light began to filter into the narrow passageway.

The stairs evened out to flat ground but it seemed to be a dead end. Then she realised that there must another secret door to get out; orange lamplight was sneaking through the cracks around a rectangular space in the wall.

Luna reached and pushed it gently open, peering out. She was emerging into a familiar corridor on the third floor. However, it was so distant from all important lessons that it seemed ridiculous that so many people should be gathered there. From what she could discern of their badges and ties, the small collection of upperclassmen gathered there all seemed to Slytherin. She poked her head out a little further, trying to investigate.

"For God's sake, where is Riddle," someone complained. There was a shuffling of feet. "I know he likes to be fashionably late but-"

"Is there a _problem_, Macnair?"

Luna withdrew her head sharply. She knew that icy voice. Tom was merely feet away from her. Of course. The Slytherin party. She'd found it – and the Slytherins wouldn't want her there, as a Ravenclaw. Even more so than that, none of them particularly seemed to like her. She would probably get into a lot of trouble if she was found. Tom in particular would be furious that she had – seemingly – followed him here. She didn't know what to do. The door was still slightly ajar, light pouring through. So far no-one had noticed her presence... in fact, so far it seemed as though no-one even knew about the secret door.

"No, no," the voice belonging to Macnair gabbled desperately. "I apologise – my – my Lord, I-"

_My Lord?_ she echoed under her breath. Why did everyone keep calling Tom that?

"Macnair, be quiet," Tom snapped. "Details of your idiocy do not interest me in the slightest and I would-" He stopped dead.

Luna froze, wondering what he had seen. She risked glancing up and saw his shadow advancing slowly towards the wall where she was hidden. She backed away until her heels found the first step and she began to slow edge away up them.

"What's wrong, darling?" Helena Selwyn was crooning, trying to wrap herself slowly around his waist like a great seductive snake.

"How long has that door been there?" Tom said. His voice was level, calm and yet audible within were layers of fury that made the air crackle with electricity. "More importantly still, how long has it been _open_?"

There was an embarrassed and horrified silence in the hall beyond the wall then. Tom spun around to face them, only leaving Luna with a glimpse of his dark, hardened expression before he began bellowing orders at the others in the room to find out what the hell the door was – and then she accepted that as her cue to leave. Luna wasn't afraid... she rarely recognised fear. It just had always seemed like something that other people did, like worry about death and other people's opinions and things like that. However, she did feel a desperate need to conceal from Tom that she had been here. She took off up the stairs faster than she could remember ever moving before.

Footsteps behind her. She could see the light of her bedroom in front of her.

She pushed the door closed and slid the heavy bookcase back and began hastily piling books back onto each shelf, not even caring about alphabetising them or anything. There would be time for that later.

There were still some books left on the floor when the door crashed into her bookcase, failing to open. Luna stood stock-still in front of the bookcase, watching it sway and rock dangerously. She considered just telling them that she had snuck down to the Slytherin party by accident. I mean, really – what was so wrong with that? There was nothing serious that they could do to her.

However, in spite of these thoughts, she waited. Holding her breath. Not moving.

The door slid closed again, followed by irritated mutters and heavy footsteps descending the steps. "Nothing," the voice of Black yelled back down the stairs. "There's a door at the top but it doesn't open. Just... a lot of puddles..."

Luna looked down at herself; water was still trickling down her legs and pooling, foggy with remnants of soap, on the floor.

She waited until she was certain that no-one was listening on the other side of the wall before she replaced the rest of the books; she then returned to the bathroom to get dry - she'd been leaving wet footprints everywhere.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Tom burst into her bedroom at about two-thirty in the morning with no consideration for privacy. Luckily for him, she was clothed and simply curled up in bed with a book, otherwise she might have thrown something at him and told him to go away. As it was, she merely looked up, blinking through the wave of hair that had fallen over her face.

"Hello, Tom!" she said brightly. "How was the party?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "Fine." His gaze flicked from surface to surface in the room. "Have you been here all evening?"

She wondered if he was looking for the secret door. Of course, she wouldn't lie if directly confronted, but for now she saw no reason to expose herself as a spy. She would feel rude and indecent. "Yes, I've just been reading," she told him, lifting up her book for him to see the title. "Extra Herbology work."

Tom moved across to her and took the book from her hands, as though for some reason he didn't believe her. He flicked roughly through the pages, dislodging a few loose leafs, and it was then that Luna noticed the dark purple sores rising on his fingers, like blisters.

"What did you do to your hands?" she asked in horror. With every movement the skin crackled and a small trickle of blood seeped through.

His eyes snapped up to hers, dark and hostile. "Nothing." He threw the book back on to her quilt and tried to withdraw his hands, moving as though to bury them in his pockets, but Luna sat forwards and grabbed his wrist.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Christopher?" he snarled, his lips curling back like a wounded dog, and tried to snatch his hand back. However, she held on tight, and then tugged him back towards her.

"_Show me."_

He stared down at her for a moment, his expression blank but his eyes wary and uncomprehending. She blinked back at him, unfazed by his set jaw and the taut, angry cords in his neck.

"Please," she tried again. "Just sit down."

Tom stood, for a moment intransigent, but then reluctantly sank down to sit on the edge of her bed. He thrust one hand ungratefully sideways without looking at her. She took his fingers in hers and twisted his hand this way and that, examining the blisters and boils that had erupted. Several times he tried to shift away, sneakily taking his hand with him, but then she would tell him off, tightening her grip on his wrist. One time she brushed a thumb coolly over one of his knuckles, and he hissed angrily.

"Sorry, does that hurt?" she asked gently, looking up at him. At that second she realised that he was closer than she had anticipated, their shoulders almost touching. He was just looking at her, his eyes so dark they appeared empty – but full of enough lightning and thunderstorms to make her anxious.

He didn't answer her directly but instead said, "I think I'll be fine," and attempted to take his hand back.

"Tom, if you don't sit still then you're going to get slapped," she told him firmly. She waited until he had settled, and then continued: "This is acid from Venomous Tentacular roots. I don't know what on earth you were doing but you should have been wearing gloves... and I can make you up some Singing Nettles and honey paste that should clear that right up, but I won't be able to get it until tomorrow morning. Is that alright?"

Without a word further to her, Tom took his hand back and stood up. "Good." He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his robes. "Do that for me tomorrow night. I have another Slytherin party so I'll return here before dinner in order for it to take effect in time. Don't make any other plans." He turned on his heel to leave, apparently satisfied with the way the meeting had gone-

"Excuse me? Tom?" she called after him as he opened the door to the joining bathroom.

He paused in the doorway.

"What do you say?" she said sweetly, smiling broadly at his back even though she knew that he could not see her.

"Goodnight."

The bathroom door slammed shut behind him and with that, he was gone.

Luna huffed, sinking back into her pillows. Well, it wasn't _thank you_ but she supposed that for now it would do. If she couldn't get him to stop lying, she could at least in the mean-time work on his manners.

And then, after that, perhaps she could conquer his phobia of rinsing out the sink once he'd used it.

There was progress yet to be made.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

The morning was bright with sun and sparrows but Luna woke slowly. Even after Tom had left at close to three in the morning, she'd lain awake for a long time thinking. Thinking about the book that she'd remembered and why her fingers stretching out for it was the last thing that she could remember. _Karawan._

She rolled out of bed, trying to hurry as she'd slept in longer than usual. In spite of her haste, she was still late. By the time she got downstairs, Tom had already gone; they usually left for breakfast at the same time.

"Oh no!" Luna exclaimed, stopping in the seventh floor hallway in the midst of slinging her book-bag over one shoulder. Having yesterday finally agreed with Fitz to make a schedule for the looking-after of their Dolceras, Baby Precious, they had decided that today it would be her turn. She'd completely forgotten.

She ran straight down to the greenhouses, right past the Great Hall, from where she could smell pancakes and all kind of delicious things that made her stomach flip hungrily in anticipation. However, this school project was more important than food.

Thankfully, the route was clear all the way down – there was not another student or teacher in site. She didn't think this absence of other people strange until she had successfully reached and tended to the Dolceras, but once the plant was writhing comfortably in its cold, freshly-salted soil, she frowned.

It didn't seem right. It was all too quiet. She should have had to bump into at least two cuddling couples outside on the twisting gravel path down.

"_Tenegelus_." Luna waved her wand over Baby Precious, watching it emit faint pale sparks that gathered around every leaf and branch, creating a misty bubble that would keep it cold for the duration of the day. Then satisfied, she crossed to another section of the greenhouse, divided by heavy glass doors, to retrieve some Singing Nettles for the injuries on Tom's hands. "Sshh," she said softly to the rows of small, thorned leaves that swayed like cobra heads, humming in a quiet chaos. "Sorry about this." The humming grew louder, more painfully discordant, as she carefully pinched the leaf at the bottom, grasping around the stem and pulling them out of the soil one at a time. Once she had collected a few, she coiled them in a way so that she would not sting herself, and then bundled them into one of the side pockets of her book bag.

_It's a very nice day_, she considered as she headed back up the path towards Hogwarts, her eyes flicking from the pearly spills of clouds to the shiny dots of beetles on bushes. It really was very strange that no-one was outside.

She turned in towards the Great Hall, her stomach rumbling faintly now that the danger of letting Baby Precious die was gone. Perhaps she could give the Singing Nettles to Tom early while she-

As soon as the doors to the Great Hall swung open, a colossal hush fell and all eyes swivelled to stare at her. Professor Dippet was standing at the front, looking very severe.

"Oh, Miss Christopher," he said. His voice was quiet but in the silence of the Great Hall, it carried easily. "How good of you to join us."

She blinked up at him, surprised. "Sorry I'm late, sir," she said dreamily as she look around, remarking that the entire school seemed to have been called together for some reason. She must have missed some kind of announcement.

She didn't try to get down to the so-called Health Binge at the other side of Ravenclaw table; she slid instead into the nearest available space. Before the last of the food disappeared, she grabbed a jar of honey and a salt-grinder to help her prepare the solution for Tom's hands, in addition to a croissant that she stuffed in her mouth as she leaned back to hear what was happening.

"Presuming that no-one else is to suddenly burst in late," Professor Dippet said, amid snickers and pointed glances at Luna, "I will proceed with the problem at hand. Yesterday some thirty Galleons worth of Potions ingredients were taken – and I won't say _stolen_ as I have the utmost faith in you all – from Professor Slughorn's private supply and among those, Class A and Classified items. I would warn you now that should the _taker_ of those ingredients decide despite this message that it would still be best to ignore it and keep them, it is in fact illegal for one to be in possession o them without a licence. Therefore," Professor Dippet said slowly, his eyes flashing from one House table to the next like a challenge, "unless you feel it worth your time to get in trouble not only with the school, but also with the administration board and the Ministry of Magic, then I would recommend that the ingredients be returned."

A low whisper rose from the crowd of students but was abruptly silenced, as though it had suddenly been made clear that gossiping was not acceptable and the realisation had spread like a Mexican wave.

"At that point, the _taker_ would be in no trouble but merely advised not to do it again," Dippet said. His voice had taken on a chilling edge. "However, if he or she thinks it wise to ignore this warning, then I can guarantee that when they are found – because I can assure you that they _will_ be found – that the error will not be taken so lightly."

Luna looked up at the head table where all the Professors were sat. Most of them seemed bored, apparently not interested in what was not their business. Only two men were an exception to this. One, Slughorn, who looked positively livid; two, Dumbledore, who had a very strange, cold expression on his face. He seemed to be gazing down at Slytherin table – but as Luna twisted to follow his gaze, Dippet dismissed the members of the Great Hall, and the mysterious student who had so intently held Dumbledore's stare was lost in the chaos and cacophony.

**xXx**


	9. A Choice Of Dessert

**A/N: **Hello! I'm back to school tomorrow so updates may be less frequent, though of course I will try to have at least one chapter up each week... not as frequent as I usually am, but there you go. The title of this chapter is kind of random. Oh well. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Nine: A Choice Of Desserts**

_Once empty, the bookcase slid smoothly across the floor, fitting neatly into grooves on the floor that had been worn in by the repetition of this action over many centuries; on the wall behind, there were dents in the wall from the wood-pins similar to ones in Tom's wall. And in the wall was a door._

_Tom stood, for a moment intransigent, but then reluctantly sank down to sit on the edge of her bed. He thrust one hand ungratefully sideways without looking at her. She took his fingers in hers and twisted his hand this way and that, examining the blisters and boils that had erupted. "This is acid from Venomous Tentacular roots. I don't know what on earth you were doing but you should have been wearing gloves... and I can make you up some Singing Nettles and honey paste that should clear that right up, but I won't be able to get it until tomorrow morning. Is that alright?"_

"_Presuming that no-one else is to suddenly burst in late," Professor Dippet said, amid snickers and pointed glances at Luna, "I will proceed with the problem at hand. Yesterday some thirty Galleons worth of Potions ingredients were taken – and I won't say stolen as I have the utmost faith in you all – from Professor Slughorn's private supply and among those, Class A and Classified items."_

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

A shimmering silver fog twisted up from the mouth of Luna's small portable cauldron, filling her bedroom with an intoxicating scent like petrichor. It had taken a lot of gentle coaxing to get the Singing Nettles to merge with the honey, even with the help of salt, but now they were boiling nicely and would soon form a thick paste. She used the tip of her wand to push at the mixture, stirring it carefully, and then left both wand and cauldron side by side on the floor.

It was nearing nine o'clock and if Tom was going to hurry off to yet _another _party this evening, then he would probably be leaving at about nine-thirty, as always. That didn't give her much time to finish making her traditional, home-made treatment for plant-related acid burns, but she would certainly try.

_**Fields stretched out endlessly, dotted yellow and lilac with new flowers. The wheat was soft, damp, under her feet as she collected the heads of weeds that would be helpful in testing for a way to treat the burns on her father's face.**_

_**Though, of course, none of the scars would ever truly fade. Some scars ran deeper.**_

Luna jerked so suddenly that one foot almost knocked the cauldron over. Her eyes flashed open and focused, slowly, on the candelabra that hung from ceiling. She had no recollection of how she had come to be lying flat-out on the floor.

For a few seconds she could not recognise where she was and was still treading dreamily through the flowers in search of young Snapping Daffodils.

There was a sharp rapping on wood behind her. "Christopher, I want to- Christopher?"

She sat up slowly, eyes wide, and then twisted to face the voice. The shape of the face high above her was familiar, but the expression upon it was not. Suspicion creased the brow but something softer and darker tore up the eyes. However, no sooner than she had blinked, the facial features had collected calmly into someone she did recognise - "Tom," she exclaimed, a pent-up breath rushing out of her lungs that she had not even realised she'd been holding. "Hello. How are you?"

"What the hell are you doing on the floor?" he demanded.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I think I was slightly overwhelmed by my own thoughts." She curled up her feet beneath her and quickly glanced over at the cauldron. It was bubbling more furiously than it had been the last time she'd checked; she used _aguamenti_ to douse the flames beneath it, letting the paste contained within settle down. "Are you here about your hands?"

"Yes." Tom moved swiftly across the room and threw himself down lazily into her armchair. "Now, tell me – how exactly does one become _overwhelmed _by their own emotions?"

Luna considered this as she used her wand again to stir the plant mixture. "I remembered my father," she said thoughtfully, gazing down into the muddy brown paste, "and I'd forgotten him. I hadn't thought I had one."

She looked up at Tom to find him staring at her from where he was stretched over the armchair. He had stiffened, narrow lines tightening at the corners of his eyes. "One does best to forget one's father," he said flatly. Luna looked up, alarmed by how toneless he sounded. She had never heard him so unaffected by anything – and it was for this reason that she suspected that he had never been more affected by it. However, before she could ask, he continued: "Now get the hell over here with whatever foul-smelling concoction you've made up and make me better."

"Petulancy doesn't you no favours, you know," Luna said, casting him a chiding glance. "Merlin forbid you be _patient_."

"_Patience _isn't a word that I'm particularly accustomed to... I prefer _immediacy_," Tom said sharply. "I do have places to be."

Luna lowered a small glass bowl into the cauldron, scooping out a small portion of the plant paste, and then got to her feet. "If you're going to be so rude and ungrateful, then I may well not help you at all," she said sternly, crossing to the armchair. She stood over him, lightly stirring the mixture with the end of her wand, but paid him no mind. "I have other places that I need to be as well. Mind you, I can't quite believe that the _Head Boy _would be idiotic enough not to take simple precautionary measures with dangerous plants... but perhaps not everyone is as clever as they seem."

"And _what_," Tom growled, his eyes flashing, "do you mean by _that_?"

"Sit still and put your hand out." She knelt beside him and used two fingers to carefully pull out a small gloop of thick brown paste. "I simply meant that if you're going to be stupid enough to burn yourself on things and someone offers to help you out of the kindness of their own hearts, then I suggest you take their help _nicely_ if you want them to go on helping you."

"I didn't _ask_ for your help," Tom retorted.

"I didn't _demand _to treat you. I gave you an analysis of what was wrong and what would fix it. Whether you paid me any mind was your choice entirely. Other hand, please."

She carefully applied the remainder of what was in the bowl to his purple, cracked knuckles. She flipped his hand over to use the excess of paste that was clinging to her hands on his singed fingertips. With every swipe of the goo, she could see the skin meshing hungrily back together.

"Right," Luna said, "you're done for today." She used her thumb to smudge in some of the areas where the paste had settled too thick. "It'll take a few more days of applying the mixture to it before the skin's healed completely but it works a lot faster than the conventional potions and remedies I know. You'll still have to come back then – that is, if you have the time in your busy schedule for me to look after you."

He ignored the slight barb to her words, instead saying coldly, "I don't need _looking after_, Christopher."

"Either way, you have a party to go to," she said, lowering the bowl to the floor. "If you don't get going, you might be late."

"Nothing will start before I arrive."

"Well, confident as you may be, you shouldn't be making excuses for why it's okay to keep everyone else waiting. You're not that important." She lifted her eyebrows at him. "You should let go of my hand too."

Tom's eyes narrowed as though he didn't understand what she meant; she flexed her fingers lightly beneath his tight grasp. He seemed aware for the first time of his own actions and let go of her hand as though he had been burned. He stood up quickly, almost stepping on and breaking the glass bowl on the floor. For a moment he was stock-still in the middle of her bedroom, his hands stretching and twitching as though trying to bring blood back to frozen fingers. Then he turned sharply on his heel and marched out towards the door – but before he left, he paused in the doorway, just as he had the night before. With a voice some degrees colder than it had been seconds ago, he said "Goodnight", and then he left.

Luna had by now accepted that by this he meant '_thank you_'.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Professor Hotchley culminated detentions throughout the week and then held them on Friday evenings. However, on this particular Friday, the Charmsmistress had an important meeting with the Headmaster and other officials, and so Luna had been asked to cover the detention session. She'd agreed, realising that doing so would give her the perfect opportunity to work on her Charms essay looking at the advantages of the _deletrius _charm in wiping a wand's memory and ways of countering it.

She arrived early, delighted to be able to set up on the Hotchley's desk, and she sat down there with her schoolwork, a plate of biscuits and a cup of tea, feeling very much as though she ruled the world.

The first to arrive was none other than Beatrice Woodrow from Ravenclaw, who recognised Luna immediately with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm overseeing the detention session," Luna explained, pointing excitedly at her tea and biscuits. "You can sit anywhere you like – as long as you get your work done."

Beatrice rolled her heavily made-up eyes melodramatically. "It's sooo unfair that I'm here though," she whined. "You're in my Charms class, aren't you? Then you _saw _what happened. I was just passing notes to Irene and Rosie about – oh – well – I was just passing notes but it was _reaaaally _important, trust me. And then Old Hotch was just right up in my face like, '_um Miss Woodrow I'm just going to have to ruin your __life__ and-_"

Luna was distracted then by a number of students filtering in through the doors slowly, of all ages and Houses. Apologising to Beatrice for the interruption to her enthralling story, she began to organise the people coming in but ended up offering them all biscuits. There came a point where she had to cast _gemino _on the biscuits to ensure that there would be enough for everyone and eventually she was using the biscuits as bribery to get the students to behave – except for Beatrice, who swore off biscuits as being terribly fattening.

The students slowly settled down to work until the scratching of quills, tapping of thoughtful fingers, and murmur of spells being practiced was all that could be heard. However, Luna noticed that there was one small, skinny-limbed Slytherin boy at the back of the room who was staring blankly out of the window.

She got up quietly, making sure not to disturb those who were still working, and made her way towards the boy at the back.

"Hi," she said cheerfully, perching on the chair next to him. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at her with wide doe eyes. "I'm not doing anything wrong," he said hurriedly.

"I know – though you probably did, to get in here in the first place," she reminded him. "What's your name?"

"Timothy." He cleared his throat, drawing himself up in his chair to look bigger. "Timothy Harper. And I was just flicking ink-pots at Marietta Prewett. I don't think I really deserve to be here."

A quick glance at the boy's Slytherin badge and the thin line around the outside told Luna that he was a second-year. "That's not very good," she said sympathetically, "especially since I suppose that if you weren't here, you could be at that Slytherin party."

Little Timothy Harper's eyebrows pulled together in a frown. "Slytherin party?" he echoed. "What Slytherin party?"

"I've been told that there's a Slytherin party on tonight," Luna explained. "Were you not going to go to it?"

Harper shook his head. "Sorry, miss, but I think you've made a mistake... there isn't a Slytherin party on tonight."

Now it was Luna's turn to frown. "Are you sure? I was told that there was."

Again, a shake of the head. "Most of us just laze about in our free time..."

Luna tilted her head slightly to one side, eyes wide as her brain spun. "But... what about yesterday?"

"Erm... no. I don't think so. Nothing yesterday – I'm pretty sure, actually. be honest, I don't think we _ever_ have Slytherin parties," said Harper. "Whenever we went out last year, we usually invited Ravenclaws anyway." He shrugged, cringing slightly. "Sorry... but I think whoever gave you your information was wrong."

_No Slytherin parties?_ Luna was completely baffled. Where had Tom been going every night then, coming back so worn out? "But what about Tom Riddle?" she asked. "Do you ever see him? He swears he's forever busy looking after everyone at all these parties..."

"Oh no, he doesn't go to _parties_, he just-" Harper suddenly cut himself off, all his words colliding. For a few seconds he was very still, very pale, and did not speak. Just as Luna was beginning to grow concerned, he said quietly, "No, I don't ever see him."

Suddenly there was a monumental crash and someone came stumbling inelegantly through the door. "Sorry I'm late, Patricia darling – I just-" Fitz stopped short, confused to find the Professor's desk empty. "Where's the Hotch?"

"Oh, she's off today," Luna called over to him. "She has a meeting."

Upon seeing her, Fitz' face lit up. His hand flew halfway up to his face before hovering awkwardly at shoulder-level; he hesitated, covering the movement by scratching the back of his head, and then with a slight cough, began searching for a chair.

Luna watched him for a moment and then abruptly remembered the second-year Slytherin sitting beside her. He was staring at her, eyebrows knotted in worry. "Sorry about that," she said, realising that she hadn't the faintest idea what they had been talking about. "Do you have any work to do?"

"Yes, I do." Harper twisted to burrow through his book-bag, coming up with several ragged leafs of parchment. He wouldn't look her in the eye but said in a low voice, "I don't need any help. You can go now."

"Oh. Okay," she said dreamily, getting to her feet. "Would you like a biscuit?"

He didn't answer; he was too preoccupied in reading the parchment and waving his wand with whatever new spell he was learning. Aside from a little bit jumpy, he seemed to be alright so Luna left him to his own business. She wondered what had changed to make him so nervous. She hoped it hadn't been something she had said.

"Now, then," she said, standing behind Fitz. "What in the name of Merlin are _you_ doing in here?"

He tipped his head all the way backwards to see her. Their eyes met, albeit upside-down, and a goofy smile spread across his freckled face. "_Well..._" His brown eyes followed her as she walked around and sat on the desktop next to his. "Let's just say that it turns out Professor Hotchley doesn't like having sneezing powder put in her pumpkin juice... who knew?"

"_Fitz!_"

"Come on, it was hilarious. She looked so confused – and she would swear under her breath every time she sneezed, thinking that no-one would hear her!" He hunched over in an imitation of the dowdy Charmsmistress. "Aaaa-_choo – son of a hag_!" he let out a loud laugh – Luna gave him a stern look, fingers to lips in a _be-quiet-for-heaven's-sake-_gesture – and in his attempt to be quiet, he sucked in his laughter in the loudest, down-and-dirtiest snort that she had ever heard.

She giggled and held her head in her hands as Fitz flushed red. They both ignored the disgusted looks that others were shooting in their direction. "One of these days, you are going to get in _real_ trouble and then I will not be here to offer you biscuits."

"You have biscuits?" Fitz' mouth dropped slightly open.

She twisted her upper body to point towards the desk, where the _gemino _charm had caused the gingerbread biscuits to pile up into a little heap on the plate. "I've been using them to discipline the younger students," she said and then jabbed him lightly in the shoulder. "You only get one if you behave yourself."

A slight smirk played across his lips. "And what if I can't behave myself?"

"Then I'm afraid you won't get any biscuits," she said, looking thoughtfully into the distance past his head – and, in a flash of brazenness, added thoughtfully, "_or_ anything else, for that matter."

Fitz gave a small nod, as if to say _I see..._ He twisted his mouth sideways a little, considering his options. "And what, exactly, is on the menu?"

She paused, tucking her legs up close and clasping her hands beneath her knees as a little smile crept onto her face. "Well, we have tea, we have chocolate cake, apple pie..." She caught Fitz' eye with lifted eyebrows. "Cherry tart." And then, surprised at her own audacity, she pushed her hair back from her face and said dismissively, "Of course, none of that matters – because as you said... you won't be able to behave yourself."

"Ohhh, okay, I give in," Fitz exclaimed, rocking back on his chair. He ruffled a hand backwards through his hair with a grin. "Hot_damn_, Luna - catch me, I'm swooning."

Luna beamed at him but as he chuckled and mimed fanning his face like a delicate woman, she noticed Beatrice Woodrow carefully watching them from the other side of the room. In a jerk so quick that her straight brown hair fell away from her shoulder and revealed a large dark purplish bruise just below and behind her ear, Beatrice looked away.

"_Anyway, the Club is primarily a __Gryffindor__ gathering now," Rosie finished. Her tone of voice implied that she held Gryffindors in roughly the same esteem as head lice._

"_What's wrong with Gryffindors?" Luna asked. _

"_For the main part, they're insufferable," Walter offered with a snort of derisive laughter._

"_They're loud, obnoxious, graceless-" Rosie listed apathetically, gesturing in the air with her fork at every word, and went on to describe every way in which Gryffindors were the wrong sort to be associated with._

"What's wrong?" Fitz asked, noticing that she had been distracted.

"Oh, nothing," she reassured him. "I just noticed Beatrice Woodrow watching us... she and her friends are quite expressive about what they think about Gryffindors."

"Of course they are," Fitz said quietly.

"I said to them that I knew a very nice Gryffindor but I don't know what they thought of _that_," Luna replied, playing with a strand of blonde hair that had curled over her face.

"There are some very nice Gryffindors," he agreed, nodding solemnly. "I mean, Richard Longbottom is pretty handsome too – from a completely-disinterested third-party point of-"

"You don't need to fish for compliments or anything," Luna said honestly, watching him stumble over his words and blush again as he was caught out. "You know I mean you. As it is, you're the only Gryffindor I personally _know_, anyway."

Still looking hot from the previous cut-down, Fitz cleared his throat with a shrug. "We should probably change that," he said, a little bit awkwardly. "I mean. Meeting more Gryffindors. I know a couple – well, I know all of them, really – but I know some who I think you'd like."

"Oh!" She considered this. "That would be lovel-"

At that moment, they were interrupted by a great crash. Glancing over, Luna saw that three younger students, in practicing their new spells, had smashed a window. All of them looked suitably mortified, shuffling awkwardly in their seats and trying not to make eye contact. Luna got up and moved over to them. "What happened?"

They all looked quickly at each other, wriggling with discomfort. "We were practicing the Releasing Charm," one of them finally confessed quietly, "and – and – and I aimed the wrong way and I wasn't really paying attention – but I didn't meant to-"

"Never mind," Luna said absently, gazing at the puddle that had formed beneath the window where rain was gusting in. "It's perfectly fixable, you see." She gave them a smile and then waved her wand at the window. "_Reparo_. And... _scourgify_." With that, the window became whole and the growing pool of rainwater on the flagstones disappeared. "Do you need any help practicing?"

They did and Luna spent the next ten minutes or so aiding them – demonstrating the correct wave-and-swish technique, giving them pointers, tying up little bundles of paper for them to safely practice releasing.It was a while before they got the hang of it, but Luna left them smiling and feeling as though they would be able to produce a confident _relashio_ next lesson when asked.

She made a round of the other tables, checking that everybody else was alright, before returning to Fitz. She came back with her cup of tea, a few biscuits and her book-bag. "Now, as nice as our conversations have been, I do actually have some Charms work that I should be doing," she told him, pulling out the chair next to him.

Fitz heaved an exaggerated sigh before reluctantly dragging his own schoolwork out. At first he tried to distract her, drawing little faces in the corners of her parchment but he gave up when she enchanted his homework so that the phrase '_rectum'_ appeared in every sentence.

_The Deletrius Charm____was discovered when Vladimir the Violent____put root of asphodel in their rectum and..._

_It is my opinion that the Deletrius would work much better if used in the rectum..._

"Okay, very clever," Fitz said sarcastically, but after that point it should be noted that he _did _stick to his own parchment.

**xXx**

**Okay, I will be the first to admit that this chapter is a bit of a filler/developer though there of course are some very important aspects to it... but yeah. Why am I justifying myself? Anyway. Please review! (:**


	10. If You Could Have Anything

**A/N: **Aloha there! Here's the next chapter of Ultimatum... obviously. I'm afraid I haven't got much to say here again. Life is very busy. So. Just. Read, I guess. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Ten: If You Could Have Anything**

_No Slytherin parties?__ Luna was completely baffled. Where had Tom been going every night then, coming back so worn out? "But what about Tom Riddle?" she asked. "Do you ever see him? He swears he's forever busy looking after everyone at all these parties..."_

"_Oh no, he doesn't go to __parties__, he just-" Harper suddenly cut himself off, all his words colliding. For a few seconds he was very still, very pale, and did not speak. Just as Luna was beginning to grow concerned, he said quietly, "No, I don't ever see him."_

"_Ohhh, okay, I give in," Fitz exclaimed, rocking back on his chair. He ruffled a hand backwards through his hair with a grin. "Hotdamn, Luna - catch me, I'm swooning." Luna beamed at him but as he chuckled and mimed fanning his face like a delicate woman, she noticed Beatrice Woodrow carefully watching them from the other side of the room. In a jerk so quick that her straight brown hair fell away from her shoulder and revealed a large dark purplish bruise just below and behind her ear, Beatrice looked away._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Luna was truly sorry to have to have declined Fitz' invitation to '_go around together' _after the detention session but there was a sudden chill in her bones and teeth like she was missing something. She knew that she had to find Tom.

_No Slytherin parties. No Slytherin parties. _The words repeated softly in her head but she couldn't understand where he would be otherwise. Not in his room, of course... she'd seen him leave enough times. There was that place where they always seemed to meet on the third-floor corridor.

She headed up from the Charms classroom towards the third-floor. Most of the lights had been thrown off in the late hours of evening, giving the hallway a dusky jack-o'-lantern glow. The statues threw still, silent shadows but she could feel their stone eyes following her as she moved.

"Hello?" she called as she came to the space where she had previously seen the Slytherins gathered.

There came no answer and for a few seconds she stood still, looking around her. She could see a faint crease in the wall where the opening of the door in the wall had broken cobwebs so she was definitely in the right place... but then where was Tom?

She hovered there for a few minutes before leaving again. Maybe this was only a meeting-place. Maybe they went somewhere else afterwards. She headed towards the library, thinking that a space so big and quiet would surely serve well for a large group. However, the library too was empty, save for a few older students revising for various exams. When she asked Madame Alban, it was revealed that no large groups of Slytherins had been seen tonight, nor any other evening this term.

Only one other place made sense and Luna set off confidently towards the Ravenclaw common room. Despite never having been in there this term, Luna could remember with perfect clarity how to get in – she even recalled having used this knowledge to prove that she belonged in Hogwarts.

It was quite some distance to walk but she didn't mind too much. A strange warm feeling rose inside her as she faced the door with the eagle-knocker; it felt like coming home.

Then the door spoke.

"Many have heard it," the door said slowly, "but nobody has ever seen it and it will not speak back until spoken to. What is it?"

Luna worried her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking carefully. "Well," she said after a long moment, "if it only speaks when spoken to, then it might well be an _echo..._" She looked up at the door expectantly. "Am I right?"

The door did not answer her directly but it opened inwards with a soft creak and Luna stepped inside. A small smile tugged at her lips as she surveyed the familiar common room with its squishy blue-and-bronze striped armchairs.

At her entrance, the students occupying the common room looked up in surprise. There were many furrowed suspicious brows. They didn't think that she belonged her. She smiled widely anyway and continued, searching the faces for someone that she knew.

Mostly the students there were younger than fourth-year but at last she spotted Mona Keogh, Irene Pasquale and Beatrice Woodrow huddled together by a wide bay window, whispering furtively. They froze like startled rabbits when Luna appeared beside them.

"What do you want?" Irene said snappily, making no effort to hide the way that she looked Luna up and down with a critical eye.

"Good evening... is Rosie here?" Luna asked.

Beatrice leaned over, eager as ever to hear what was going on so that she could gossip about it at the next meal-time. Mona brought out a hand-mirror and began arranging curling pins into her hair.

"No, she's not here at the moment," Irene replied. "Why do you want her?"

"Well, I'm actually looking for Tom Riddle but I can't find him either," Luna said. "I know that Rosie and Tom are very close and I thought that she might know where he was."

"And what would _you_ know about Rosie's relationship with Tom?" Irene asked, cagey. She flipped back her shiny black hair. There was a very faint blue mark beneath her ear.

"Relationship?" Luna asked excitedly. "Are they a couple now? Oh, that's just lovely – you see, I was telling Rosie just last week that Tom-"

"They're not together," Irene interrupted, "Rosie is not here, and we don't know where Riddle is, either. Sorr-_ee._" She folded her arms across her chest, looking questioningly at Luna as though challenging her to ask any more questions.

Luna gazed past them out of the window. She could see the Forbidden Forest stretching into the distance, seemingly infinite. The moon hung brightly over it, casting every treetop silver. "It's a very clear night," she observed softly. "I imagine the Threstrals must be enjoying themselves."

"Sorry," Irene butted in again, leaning back on the arm of the sofa. "Was there something else that you wanted here, or...?"

"Oh no, that's all, really," Luna said absent-mindedly. "Thanks anyway... I'll see you at breakfast, I suppose."

She then turned slowly, almost like a ballerina, and drifted back towards the door, lost in thought. The door swung open for her and then closed with a decisive snap once she was through. The lamps lining the curved stairwell flickered on to guide her and she found herself on the landing of the eighth-floor, with no real idea of where she was going. It was only when she was descending the last few steps to the seventh-floor corridor that she noticed the portrait of a fat middle-aged woman in a pink dress that an idea came to her.

"Excuse me, please," she said to the painting.

The woman in pink turned to face her, looking rather disgruntled. "Yes?"

"Could I come in?" Luna asked. "I'm not a Gryffindor but I would quite like to see my friend Fitzgerald Sinclair." She was delighted to be able to use the word '_friend_' so freely. It made her feel so powerful.

"Do you have the password?"

"Oh..." Luna sucked on her bottom lip thoughtfully. She had a list somewhere in her bedroom of all the passwords in the school but she couldn't for the life of her remember the password into the Gryffindor common room... "Oh dear. I'm not really sure. I'm the Head Girl though. I'm allowed in."

The woman shook her head. "No password, no entry," she huffed and turned away slightly.

"Please could you then send out Fitzgerald?" Luna tried, but to no avail.

"What d'you need with Fitz?" a voice came curiously from behind her.

Luna spun, surprised. "Oh, hello!" she exclaimed. "I'm Luna Christopher... I'm friends with Fitz and I'd like to see him please."

The boy behind her looked to be her age, dark-skinned with short hair and a nose that looked as though it had been broken one too many times. "Sure thing," he said simply. "_Willikers_. Open 'er up."

The portrait, which the boy told her was merely called the Fat Lady, swung open. The common room inside looked warm, cosy, and was filled with students of all ages, shapes and sizes. Literally, all shapes and sizes – Luna spotted a ruddy-cheeked young boy with bristly dark brown hair who looked as though he was at least half-giant and was sitting in a corner mumbling into a large shoebox. Luna spotted Fitz immediately, bent almost double over a Wizard's Chessboard in concentration.

"Thanks," said Luna warmly, smiling at the boy who had helped her before heading over to where Fitz was sitting.

No-one in the Gryffindor common room seemed to think twice of a Ravenclaw strolling through; most just nodded at her or smiled as she went past.

"Hey Louis," Fitz said, barely glancing up at the boy behind Luna. "Help me out here, I'm getting- Luna?" His face split into a broad grin that seemed to start past his ears and made his nose crinkle. "What are you doing here?"

"Knight to E7," Luna suggested helpfully, looking over the chessboard. She then apologised to the blonde boy opposing Fitz, before explaining herself. "Well, you said that I should come and meet some more Gryffindors at some point, so here I am." She looked at him in calm expectation.

"Oh yeah, of course." Fitz was gawping at the damage that his knight had done on the Wizard's Chessboard. "Tell you what – you sit here and help me thrash Ernest, and I'll introduce you to Marlon bleeding Brando if that's what tickles your fancy."

She perched on the arm of Fitz' chair, watching the blonde boy – Ernest – for his next move.

"Knight to C3."

"Pawn to D3."

"Okay... well..." he murmured, pointing at one of the white squares on the other side of the board. "Pawn to G-"

"No, don't!" Luna interrupted, grabbing his hand and pulling it back. "That's a terrible idea! Bishop to B9."

"Why is it a terrible idea?" Fitz countered, looking up at her in confusion. "If I go to G4 I can get his pawn!"

"But why in the name of Merlin would you _want _one?"

"So I can win?"

"That's not how you win! Look, it's a totally pointless move – whereas if you move your bishop to B9 then you can get a knight-"

"But then he'll get me!"

"But the sacrifice then lets you-"

"_Sacrifice?_" Fitz echoed. "What do you think we're playing – this isn't the Battle of Siguror, you know-"

"Well, thank goodness it isn't, because if it was then the goblins would have _won_, the way you're playing!" Luna retorted. "You're being quite ridiculous, Fitzgerald – _bishop to B9."_

She let go of his hand. Her fingertips ached cold and she clenched her hands into little fists.

The chess-pieces on the board were looking frantically from Luna to Fitz, having no idea whose orders they were supposed to be following. Fitz scowled at Luna, but from that point it was decided that he would do whatever she instructed – and, for the first time in his life, Fitz won a game of Wizard's Chess.

"Bloody hell," the blonde boy opposite gave a low whistle, pushing a handful of Honeydukes chocolate over the board. "That's a first. Fitz, I think you'd better get rid of her or you might start actually making some money!"

"Oh, be quiet and eat your chocolate – _oh wait!_" Fitz laughed and waved the Honeydukes bars tantalisingly in front of his friend.

"Don't worry, you play very well," Luna said comfortingly."Your name is Ernest, isn't it?"

"Ernest Emery, yep." He extended a hand for her to shake.

"And this is Louis Delmar," Fitz said, gesturing to the tall boy who had helped Luna into the common room. Then there were two girls sitting behind Ernest – one redhead who Fitz introduced as being Vivian Prewett and a severe-looking darker-haired girl called Augusta Baldwin.

"Lovely to meet you all," said Luna, sinking down into the ludicrously-soft armchair. "Fitz told me that I would like you and so far I do."

"Bless, she's like a little alien," said Louis with a tone of condescending affection.

Fitz kicked him. "Did you find Riddle then?" he asked.

"No," said Luna. "I'll just talk to him tomorrow morning before breakfast, I think."

"Why were you looking for Riddle?" Louis asked, vaulting over the back of the sofa and plopping down heavily next to her.

"They're Head Boy and Girl, aren't they?" Ernest said. "They probably have all kinds of... _heady _business to discuss." He chuckled to himself; everyone else around him gave a groan at the bad pun.

Luna blinked and then turned worriedly to Fitz. "Does he think he's funny?"

For some unknown reason, the Gryffindors all seemed to think that _this_ was hilarious and Luna found herself surrounded by raucous howls of laughter. Ernest looked outraged that Fitz must have set Luna up to say this, and upon Fitz' insistence that he had done no such thing, he sulked.

"I'm surprised you had to look so hard to find Riddle," Augusta Baldwin said, making a face. "I was always under the impression that you could just sneeze and he'd pop up behind you wanting to know what you were doing."

"I'm almost eighty percent sure that he lives inside other people's arses," said Louis, ducking a smack to the head from Ernest for being so coarse in front of women.

"No, he lives up his _own _arse," Augusta corrected with a haughty sniff. "Merlin, he could probably brush his teeth backwards."

"That's a bit rude," said Luna. "Why don't you like Tom Riddle?"

There was an awkward pause.

"Well..." Fitz said. "He's just a bit... arrogant and bossy and creepy."

"And I don't like his creepy little followers either," said Viviandecisively. "All those girls who'd slit their throats for him soon as he asked for a drop a blood. And he's the type who _would_ ask for a drop of blood as well – to stir in his afternoon tea."

"I wouldn't say that too loud," Louis snorted. "You'd think he's befriended the walls with how quickly word gets around. I wouldn't dare so much as think _'well, what a bastard' _because he'll be there in three seconds, looming like the bloody Leaning Tower of Pizza or whatever it's called."

"I think he's quite nice," said Luna thoughtfully. "He's a bit intense sometimes though – and he can be very rude."

"Well, I suppose you would," Augusta said in a tone that was more derisive than Fitz had lead Luna to expect from Gryffindors. "You're more _rainbows _and _flowers _and _butterflies_ than a bloody summer fairy – I'm surprised you can even-"

"Leave her alone, Augusta," Fitz snapped, speaking up for the first time since Tom Riddle had been brought into the discussion.

Luna looked up at him in surprise. She could not recollect when he had moved to the sofa, or when he had moved so close, but their arms were now flush and she could feel his warmth through the sleeve of her thin cardigan. His ears were turning red at the top and he wouldn't look at her.

Augusta made a huffing noise and turned back to Vivian; the two began to dig through their book-bags, quietly talking. Louis and Ernest exchanged a glance and then they too began to chat quietly amongst themselves.

"Sorry about that," Fitz mumbled. He settled back into the sofa, looking embarrassedly down at his knees. "I mean. I just." He scratched the back of his head and glanced up for a split-second before he coloured again and tore his eyes away. "Augusta's nice, really," he said. "She takes getting used to, that's all. She's a bit... a bit... b-blunt. And. And she d-doesn't take very quickly to people she doesn't know. So it's kind of an honour if she does like you... but... but that's not the point. I'm sorry that she-"

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Luna said emphatically, laying a hand over his in an attempt to stop his worrying and stuttering. "Really – I'm quite used to it. In fact, it's been really lovely meeting your friends... usually no-one's this kind to me."

Fitz stared at her for a long time. She slowly became aware that they were still sitting very close together. She could see a thin ring of grey-green around his pupils, almost completely hidden behind all the different shades of brown; it made his eyes look bigger, blink slower.

"Are you alright?" she asked. He wasn't usually this silent. It was normally Tom who did the quiet-strange-staring thing.

"I think that's the saddest thing that I have ever heard," Fitz said.

"Oh, I very much doubt it," Luna replied bluntly. "After all, you lost your sister when you were younger."

Fitz blinked at her, taken aback. "Well. Yes, I did," he said, frowning. "But what I meant _was_ that the fact that you can say something like that so happily is just... a travesty, to be honest." There was something in his eyes, in the line of his mouth and set of his chin, that looked like pain. "I promise you that you will not be made to accept that kind of stuff anymore."

"That's very nice of you but I can look after myself," she insisted.

She squeezed his hand gently, but he drew away, leaving his hand in his lap. She frowned at him for a moment, but then she overheard something that made her turn abruptly.

"_-_don't think you're allowed to use that in the test, Viv," Augusta was saying. "I heard about a girl who looked up all this fancy seeing-eye stuff for her Divination exam a couple of years ago – including that Egyptian_ Karawan _rubbish – and she got in _loads _of trouble. Apparently it's really dark stuff... She broke about ten major school rules just by mentioning it in an essay. I really wouldn't-"

_**Setting a pile of books on the floor to stand on top. Stretching twisting falling. Butterflies.**_

_**Bang.**_

_**The title that she wanted jumped out at her: **__**KARAWAN.**_

_**Something was waiting.**_

_**Bang.**_

Luna gaped.

"Are you okay, Luna?" Fitz' concerned voice brought her sharply back to reality. She turned back to face him with wide, dizzy eyes as memories swirled and faded in her head. "You're not upset with Augusta, are you?"

"No, of course not. I was just remembering something," she said pensively, staring into the distance.

Fitz _hmm_-ed, clearly still worried somehow by what she'd said about being used to being teased, and changed the conversation to other things... asking if she wanted a cup of tea, if she wanted some of his Honeydukes chocolate, if she wanted another chance to smash Ernest at Wizard's Chess, if she wanted _anything_ at all... It almost seemed like he was giving her the world. She reassured him that she didn't need anything.

**xXx**

**Okay, I will be the first to admit that this chapter is a bit of a filler/developer though there of course are some very important aspects to it... but yeah. Why am I justifying myself? Anyway. Please review! (:**


	11. Mad Girls And Englishmen

**A/N: **Ahoy! The title of this chapter is very random... I couldn't think of what to call it. Updates should be pretty quick as I'm really getting back into writing this. I hope you liiiike it. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Eleven: Mad Girls And Englishmen**

"_I'm surprised you had to look so hard to find Riddle," Augusta Baldwin said, making a face. "I was always under the impression that you could just sneeze and he'd pop up behind you wanting to know what you were doing."_

"_-don't think you're allowed to use that in the test, Viv," Augusta was saying. "I heard about a girl who looked up all this fancy seeing-eye stuff for her Divination exam a couple of years ago – including that Egyptian __Karawan __rubbish – and she got in loads of trouble. Apparently it's really dark stuff... She broke about ten major school rules just by mentioning it in an essay. I really wouldn't-"_

_Fitz hmm-ed, clearly still worried somehow by what she'd said about being used to being teased, and changed the conversation to other things... asking if she wanted a cup of tea, if she wanted some of his Honeydukes chocolate, if she wanted another chance to smash Ernest at Wizard's Chess, if she wanted anything at all... It seemed like he was giving her the world. She reassured him that she didn't need anything._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

It was eleven o'clock before Luna was finally forced to leave the Gryffindor common room. Professor Noble came up, ranting and raving that no-one was in their beds yet, and it was at this point that Luna said goodbye, slipping quietly away. There was such chaos in the room that she escaped unnoticed by the angry Arithmancy Professor and made her way back down the corridor to her own bed. However, as she climbed the last of the steps up to the Head common room, she noticed several things that were unusual.

Firstly, Tom was back earlier than her.

Secondly, the common room was in a different state to the one she'd left it.

Thirdly, the room had been torn apart.

At least, she sorely hoped that it had been Tom who had torn apart the common room or she would have a much larger problem on her hands.

It seemed as though nothing in the room was untouched. Furniture was cast askew, paper and books were scattered untidily all across the floor, and it appeared as though an ink pot had been thrown at a wall. The air was fetid with cigarette smoke.

"Tom?" she called worriedly. "Are you here?"

There was a loud crash from somewhere upstairs and then silence. After a few moments' hush, deafening footsteps cracked down the steps – Luna counted them – _fifteen... sixteen... seventeen... – _and then Tom came storming into the common room, looking as though he wanted to torch everything in sight.

He seemed taller somehow, though that might well have been the effect of his anger. He stood perfectly still and his face was blank of all emotion, save for his eyes. Those flashed hot and furious and so dizzyingly black that Luna felt a tremor through her knees. She couldn't see anything but darkness.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" he ground out, his voice lower, colder and more venomous than she had ever heard before. He could have frozen over every wavering candle in the room.

"Where have _you_ been?" she challenged, taking a step closer and settling her hands on her hips.

Tom withdrew just a little bit, clearly surprised, but then he stared at her. It was clearly from the faint line that creased between his eyebrows that he had not expected this turn of events. "What?"

"_You_," she repeated loudly, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "In answer to your question, I've been out making some new friends and before that I was at a detention session." She jabbed him again. "And in explanation of _my_ question, while I was at said detention session, I had a very enlightening conversation with a young second-year by the name of Timothy Harper – who told me that there _wasn't _a Slytherin party tonight." She jabbed him again, her fingertip brushed the worn wool of his jumper. "Moreover, he told me that that aren't any at all – and certainly not any this term!" She arched an eyebrow at him.

For a long second, Tom merely looked at her, his expression the picture of apathy while his eyes raged. Her eyes flickered to the tight line of his lips and she focused on breathing while the staccato-stutter of her heart thumped and crashed like a hurricane.

Finally, Tom spoke. "I can assure that I was indeed attending a party hosted by Slytherin," he said, his voice low and husky from the smoke. "Your _informant _is perhaps not invited."

Luna hesitated, stumped. She had not considered that.

"Timothy Harper, was it?" he asked.

"Yes – why?"

"Oh, no real reason," Tom assured her smoothly, straightening up. "I merely want to assure that next time I extend a hand to Timothy Harper in _invitation."_

He gave her a twist of the lips that seemed as though it might be a smirk but there was no light in his eyes and it sent a chill down to her toes.

"How considerate of you," she said gently. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she was aware that she had planned to chastise him for the mess he had made and the way that he had spoken so rudely when she came home or something... _something _like that... She wasn't entirely sure. Things were blurry.

In a completely flat and apathetic tone, he said quietly, "Of course... because as you may have come to see, I do have such a big... _big _heart." His eyes were lighter than she had remembered seeing for quite some time. Almost humorous. He seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

Then, with nothing more than that, he turned sharply on his heel and headed back upstairs.

Luna blinked, feeling as though she just been knocked about with a baseball bat and then left swinging to regain her balance. By the time she realised what was happening, he was already gone.

"Well, goodnight, then!" Luna called after him, irritation tinging her voice. "Thank you for destroying the common room! It's simply _wonderful_ that you know me so well – I know few other people who would go to such extravagant lengths to turn the room to rubble simply because they knew how I enjoyed cleaning!"

There was the snap of a door closing and then he was gone. Luna huffed crossly, waiting, but received no answer from the Head Boy. Nada.

She turned instead to survey the damage done to the common room. It was nothing too drastic – it just looked as though the furniture had been kicked around in a fit of rage. One of the chairs had a broken leg but it was easily fixed. However, she just couldn't imagine what would bring Tom to the point of smashing up the common room in anger. She set to work.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

_**Setting a pile of books on the floor to stand on top. Stretching twisting falling. Butterflies.**_

_**The title that she wanted caught the light, twisting silver and spidery: **__**KARAWAN.**_

_**Bang.**_

"_**Okay, Luna, you know what you have to do." Hermione's hair was piled up on top of her head, frizzier and more out of control than usual. She'd stuck a quill in it to keep all in place. She burrowed through the wobbly stacks of papers on her wide mahogany desk. "Here's today's list."**_

"_**More**__**?" Luna asked incredulously, taking the scrap of parchment and reading the titles written upon it. Only a few were in English but she was fairly confident that she would be able to find them all.**_

_**Hermione nodded, somewhat distracted by an the appearance of a shadowy figure through a side door. "'Evening," she said softly, "how can I help? Miss Lovegood," she glanced over at the other girl, "was just going. You know what to do, Luna, right?"**_

_**Luna mm-ed distantly, looking out through the window at the setting sun. She dragged her gaze away and then turned to face the door. She nodded politely at the figure in the corner and then headed away to the library.**_

"_**Oh, and Miss Lovegood?" Hermione called just as she was through the door. She recited the next words as though they'd been said a thousand times and had lost all meaning – that, or they'd never been stronger. "Remember – our Lord is always watching."**_

Luna sat up so fast that she got a headache and nearly fell out of bed. Her heart was beating a tattoo against her ribcage. She could barely breathe.

_What just happened?_

She stared out at her bedroom – for a moment, it was unfamiliar – and then she recognised where she was. At Hogwarts. In the Head Girl's chamber. The only place she knew.

She glanced over at the clock. It was two-thirty-four in the morning. Ridiculous o'clock, Fitz would call it.

Heaving a sigh, Luna slowly lay back down, trying to calm herself. She was having trouble regaining her breath but she twisted onto her side. Her eyes drifted comfortably closed again.

The incident was forgotten.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

The morning was cold as autumn crept in. Outside the castle windows, leaves were already curling dusky orange and brown and grass was crunchy underfoot. The winds that whipped up across the grounds from the lake were icy, bracing and often brought rain. Luna wore a scarf.

She deliberately got ready and dressed faster than usual so as to avoid seeing Tom – not because she didn't want to talk to him, but because she knew that he did not get along well with Gryffindors, and she wanted to talk to Vivian Prewett.

Luna made it out of the common room while hot water could still be heard rushing upstairs from Tom getting washed. Gryffindors, who normally got up early, were already making their way down the stairs in swarms and droves, chatting amongst themselves. She hurried forwards, hoping that she wasn't too late.

As she neared the portrait of the Fat Lady, she spied a vaguely familiar blonde head beginning to descend the stairs beyond it. "Ernest!" she called after him. "Ernest Emery!"

He turned, a bewildered expression cutting through his features. "Hello?" he seemed confused at first, but then found her and smiled. "Oh, Luna. If you're looking for Fitz then I'm afrai-"

"No, actually, I'm looking for Vivian Prewett," Luna said enthusiastically, craning her head to look past him, searching to see if Vivian had already passed.

"Well, I can't be one-hundred percent certain," Ernest said, straightening the lapels of his robes, "but I would say you're in luck. I don't think she's come down yet. I presume she'll be out soon... if you wait here you should see her."

Luna thanked Ernest profusely and then settled down on the floor next to the portrait hole to wait. She may have got in the way of a few people as a great number of young students seemed to fall over her head, but she was thoroughly gripping by a baby spider tentatively making its first journey from the cobweb down the window nearby. Before she knew it, voices and feet and a swish of robes and red hair were strolling past her. She wouldn't have even noticed, had Augusta Longbottom not stood on her knee, stumbled and sworn.

"What the devil are you doing down there?" Augusta said angrily, hopping on one foot to rearrange the shoe that had fallen off her foot. "I could have fallen down the stairs or something, you mad girl."

"Oh!" Luna wiped away the footprint that had been left on her school skirt, attempting to gather together the school-books that had been kicked about a bit by students stepping past them. "Good morning, Augusta. Vivian, I was waiting for you!"

Vivian's eyebrows crinkled in the middle. "What for?" She extended a hand to help Luna to her feet.

"The thing is that I accidentally overheard a bit of your conversation last night," said Luna dreamily. "I didn't mean to, of course, but I did hear you talking together about a Divination exam and going through your answers and so on. I heard you mention something about some Egyptian magic... did you say Karawan?"

Exchanging a quick glance with Augusta, Vivian said, "Yes, I did. Do you want to walk with us down to breakfast? We usually like to be early." As the three set out together, Vivian continued. "Well, there's a woman in my village who became rather ill over the summer and she was being moved back to live with her family in Egypt – they hoped that the climate would help her to get better, you see – and so she was selling a lot of things that she couldn't take with her. I went to have a look around to see if there was anything I could have and I found this book on something called Karawan..."

Here Vivian lowered her voice and, for a moment as they passed a Professor's office, didn't speak at all until they were clear of anyone who might listen.

"So what it is?" Luna asked as they descended the main staircase towards the Entrance Hall.

"It's a type of dark Egyptian Divination," Vivian explained.

"And very forbidden," Augusta cut in with a sniff. "We wouldn't be allowed to use it in our exam – though of course, I suppose you know that, as you were so kindly listening into our chat yesterday. That means I don't suppose you should be snooping around about it either."

"Be nice," Vivian said, swatting her friend lightly on the elbow with the back of one hand. "Anyway, as I was saying," she rolled her eyes at Luna, "it's Divination. It supposedly translates into _averting the evil eye_... I can't be too sure on it though."

They paused before the grand wooden doors into the Great Hall. The clatter and shout of eating filtered temptingly out with the smell of fried breakfast.

"Actually... I could lend it to you, if you want," Vivian suggested. She glanced down through the Great Hall to where the Professors were sitting and then burrowed through her bag. After a moment of shifting around ink-pots and little jars that clinked like sea-shells, she fished out a heavy, dust-covered book bound in burgundy leather. "I was just going to hide it in the library after breakfast... I didn't want to have it just in case it _did_ get me into trouble after all." She weighed the book pensively in one hand. "It seems a shame, really... but there you go."

"Really?" Luna broke into a broad smile, feeling her feet fidget impatiently with excitement as she took the book from Vivian and stashed it inside her own book-bag. "Thank you, that's just lovely."

"It's not a problem." Vivian tossed back some stray hair that had fallen into her face – an idiosyncrasy that Luna found bizarrely familiar, considering that she had only met Vivian yesterday – and grinned. "Just put it in the library somewhere once you're done with it." With that, turned to disappear into the Great Hall; Augusta grabbed her arm to hurry her along but Vivian paused again, turning back. "By the way, I just thought - would you like to eat with us?"

Luna considered it. Vivian was very friendly and reminded her of a lot of things that felt like home... however, she hadn't spoken to Rosie Veitch in a while and she had a feeling in her stomach that if she was going to try and be friends with this many people, she had better make sure that she was looking after those that she had already met. Luna had a lot to think about as well – _karawan,_ for one – and perhaps the sharp minds at Ravenclaw table could assist.

"Thank you very much for the offer but I'm going to have my breakfast at Ravenclaw for today," she finally said, both apologetic and just a tiny bit delighted at having friends in the first place, let alone so many friends that she could decide at leisure who to eat her eggs with.

"Okay, I'll see you around then!"

The two Gryffindor girls disappeared into the bustling throng of red-and-gold-clad bodies while Luna made her way over to the Health Binge at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. She could smell the sickly fragrances of salad dressing from a mile away and that was where she was sure to find Rosie and her companions.

"Who was that?" asked Beatrice Woodrow interestedly as Luna sat down among them.

"Vivian Prewett and Augusta Longbottom," said Luna, reaching over to serve some fried tomatoes and bacon onto her plate. "Wow, it looks delicious today, doesn't it?" she added conversationally.

"Augusta _Longbottom_?" echoed Irene Pasquale with a cold laugh. "Oh, _sweetheart, _I know they're all the same but that was Augusta Baldwin. Don't mix them up. The Longbottoms still have _some _potential... even if they're only Hufflepuffs."

Luna frowned. For some reason, she had been _certain_ that Augusta's last name was Longbottom. How curious. "Oh."

"Why were you talking to them?" Rosie enquired, playing idly with a salt-shaker. "I saw that they gave you something. Was it anything that might interest me?"

Luna hesitated for a moment. Vivian had really impressed upon her a sense of how much trouble they could potentially get into for having this book... but she refused to lie. "It's a Divination book," she said honestly, cutting her slice of toast into dodecahedrons to make it look prettier.

Rosie fixed sharp, yellow-green eyes on her that flashed like torchlight. "You don't study Divination," she said softly. "What would you be interested in something like that?"

Irene Pasquale and Mona Keogh nudged each other, smirking tugging at their painted lips. Beatrice leaned in closer. However, the only one whom Luna was at the moment interested in at all was Rosie, and Rosie had not moved at all. Just... watching. Waiting for something, Luna might have said, would that not have been strange.

"I was just chatting to them about it and I thought it sounded fascinating," Luna said absent-mindedly. She tilted her head slightly in confusion as she considered something else for the first time. "How do you know I don't do Divination?"

For a split-second, something like alarm flickered through Rosie's eyes. Then, with a quick, coy flutter of eyelashes and a sudden absorption into checking the ends of her hair, she was normal again. "Just curiosity," she said sweetly. She gave Luna a special smile. "I like to know where everyone is..." Then she leaned over, close to Luna, and said in a low, _don't-tell-a-soul_ voice: "...keep all my little birdies in check."

**xXx**

**Creeper love is deeper love. Please review!**


	12. Spider Limbs

**A/N: **Aloha oi. Aren't I being good with my weekly updates? It's great. Anyway. I am very tired and have only had six hours sleep but here is the next chapter nonetheless. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Twelve: Spider Limbs**

_Finally, Tom spoke. "I can assure that I am indeed attending a party hosted by Slytherin," he said, his voice low and husky from the smoke. "Your informant is perhaps not invited. "Timothy Harper, was it?" he asked quickly. "I merely want to assure that next time I extend a hand to Timothy Harper in __invitation__."_

"_**Oh, and Luna?" Hermione called just as she was through the door. She recited the next words as though they'd been said a thousand times and had lost all meaning – that, or they'd never been stronger. "Remember – our Lord is always watching."**_

"_It's a type of dark Egyptian Divination," Vivian explained. "And very forbidden. It's Divination. It supposedly translates into averting the evil eye... I can't be too sure on it though."_

_Rosie fixed sharp, yellow-green eyes on her that flashed like torchlight. "You don't study Divination," she said softly. "I like to know where everyone is..." Then she leaned over, close to Luna, and said in a low, don't-tell-a-soul voice: "...keep all my little birdies in check."_

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"I feel I have to say something to you, father to son," Fitz said solemnly. "Perhaps something about wishing you well in the future... but quite frankly, I've hated every second of raising you and, more to the point, I would rather happily grind a blunt saw-"

"_Fitz_!" Luna said, smacking him fiercely with her gardening gloves. "You should be nice to our baby."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a _plant_," he groaned. "I'm hardly going to hurt its feelings, am I?"

Luna hit him again. "To be honest I'm not sure that _you _have any feelings either," she told him, raising her eyebrows. "It's no wonder that Baby Precious prefers me."

"He does not," Fitz protested.

"Yes, _she_ does – and I thought we went over this – Baby Precious is definitely a girl-"

"Look at those manly vines. Just _look_ at them. There is no way on heaven or earth that-"

"She _flowered_!"

"Alright, I admit, he may have embraced his feminine side a little early but if he wants to experiment then I'm not going to-"

A loud, distinct _ahem-ahem_ interrupted their married-couple-tiff and both of them looked over in alarm to see Professor Callick – and, for that matter, everyone else in their class, standing there watching them.

"Are you two ready to pass up your Dolceras to get your marks for the project?" Professor Callick asked, her voice overly-stern in an attempt to mask the little smile that showed in the crinkles beside her eyes.

"Just give us a sec, Professor... I have to give Baby Precious a little pep talk before he graduates – he gets terribly nervous, you see, and-"

"Mr. Sinclair," Professor Callick interrupted again, folding her arms. "If the project was on your mouth's ability to create a seemingly-endless spout of garbage, then I guarantee you would receive full marks for the whole course. However," she said sharply, "as it is _not_, I would greatly appreciate if you could be quiet for _one minute_ of your life and bring your Dolceras forwards!"

Luna pushed in front of Fitz, nudging him aside with her hip – except that for some reason, he didn't move as she'd expected him to, and she instead ended up squishing sideways into him. Unperturbed, she reached across to lift Baby Precious, cradling the plant-pot gently in her arms, and then shifted awkwardly past her unmoving Herbology partner. She could feel his eyes on her but ignored whatever he may want to say about their plant at the moment; she moved swiftly up to the front of the class to present Professor Callick with the fruit – pun intended – of all their hard work.

The Herbology Professor set it on the table, turning the plant's leaves this and way and that. "Well," she said, after a long, drawn-out moment of careful examination. "I will need to look at the roots tonight and check its chemical levels for malnutrition but aside from such details, I would say..." She gave the Dolceras one last appraising look and then admitted begrudgingly, "I would say that that the pair of you have done a bang-up job of this."

Luna's face lit up; she beamed. "Thank you," she exclaimed, before turning and skipping back to where she had left Fitz. "We did really well!" She couldn't help but jig a little bit from foot to foot, over-excited as she packed up her books and quills.

Fitz made a big scene of wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. "Our little baby all grown up," he said melodramatically, throwing himself from side to side in throes of sorrow. "I just can't bear it without him!"

"Oh, pipe down," she said with a smile, prodding him out the door to the winding path up from the greenhouses. "Fitzgerald Sinclair, you are simply ridiculous."

He threw her a grin. "I'm _adorable_."

It was useless. She just couldn't win. "Anyway. What do you have next?" she asked, skirting Fitz' egos in great steps over to a different conversation. However, it was not that easy.

"Oops – quick, change the topic, Fitz is getting cute," he provoked, dancing around her with clumsy, bambi-legged thumps.

"Fitz, please be careful," Luna said, more concerned by the awkward flail of his limbs as he walked backwards than what he was saying. "Goodness, you're going to hurt yourself..."

"Goodness but isn't he _dashing-_"

"Fitz-!" Luna lunged out to grab him but it was too late. He crashed backwards into two Hufflepuffs who looked to be in the middle of some huge row. "I'm sorry about him," she apologised, trying to extract Fitz from them.

"Never mind looking out for him," the boy said angrily. "He should be looking out for _you –_ every bloody girl is the same here, all about-"

"Edward, _stop it_!" the girl cried, getting teary-eyed. "Don't bring other people into this. I said I was sorry – I just-"

"I really thought you were different, you know? But you're the same as every other girl here, bending over backwards so that snake-seducing little _bastard_ can-"

At that point, the female Hufflepuff broke away from the hold of her potentially-ex-boyfriend – and also from Fitz' inelegantly-sprawled limbs, a task in itself – and flounced away, revealing in the swish of her blonde curls a dark purple blotch just beneath her ear.

"Well, that was strange," Fitz commented from the floor as the second Hufflepuff ran off after his companion. "Not unusual though, I daresay."

"What?" Luna frowned. She extended her hands to pull Fitz to his feet, though she struggled with his weight as he was the same height as her but a lot heavier. "Why? What _are _those marks?"

Fitz gave her an appraising stare that made the crescent-scar in his brow squiggle. Upon seeing her blank expression, he threw an arm casually around her shoulder and explained delicately, "Well. Luna. When a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, they go off together to find a bed or a sofa or even a particularly comfy bit of carpet if they're feeling a bit adventurous, and-"

Luna's mouth fell slightly open. "Are those _bites_?" she asked incredulously. She felt a child-like urge to cover her ears. How _indecent_!

"Yeah..." he shrugged his shoulders. "Some girls get embarrassed by it... others wear it with pride. _Look at me, I must be beautiful because I have proof that Riddle and I..._" He trailed off awkwardly, before looking down, scratching the back of his head with a hot flush high on his cheeks.

"Riddle?" she echoed. Her eyes widened. Had _Tom_ done that? To almost _every girl in the school_? It was scandalous, even by her standards.

"It's sort of his thing. That way everyone knows which girls are his. Or at least, it used to work like that... but since he's had just about every girl in school, it's basically pick-and-mix." Fitz watched her carefully, his eyes flickering silently down to her own throat. He spoke quietly. "I don't know why, but that's how it goes. Nice girls go for idiots. Fact of life."

Luna _hmph -_ed, still barely able to believe it. By this point, they were nearing the steps up to the Entrance Hall.

Fitz was still walking backwards. He was not paying attention.

Unfortunately, she was so caught up within her own world that she didn't even notice any of those urgent pieces of information until Fitz had already knocked his own feet out from underneath him and, in a graceful movement that, if planned, should have been pure comedic genius, cracked his head on the top step.

She blinked, confused for a moment. Then she realised what was happening. _"Fitz_?"

He had tipped his head back onto the step above where the back of his skull had hit. His brown eyes were wide and distant, more like unreachable shores than hot chocolate. "Ow," he said, very slowly. "_Ow."_

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, crouching on the steps beside him. "Merlin, Fitz, I had no idea that anyone could possibly hurt themselves so often... what is _wrong _with you?"

"Nothing," Fitz said, shaking his head. "Nothing nothing nothing _at all_. I have never been better. I don't even think I hurt myself... but... I might have broken a nail." He lifted his hand to examine it. "My finger stings a little. Like I stubbed my toe. But toes... on my hand."

Luna glanced at his hands, which he was holding in front of him like they were a potentially-dangerous alien species. Both looked to be fine, but he was acting as though he was drunk. Well, drunk or...

She sighed. "Come on, Fitz, I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing... I think the Nargles got you." She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him carefully up. As he left the steps, she glanced at where he had been. Sure enough, there were faint specks of blood on the top step. "This wouldn't have happened if you would just keep tulips in your bedroom like I said you should."

He stopped right in the middle of the Great Hall and projectile-vomited in a frankly spectacular display that had younger-year girls nearby running and squealing.

"Oh my," Luna said, eyes wide. "I did not sign up for this."

"Darling, the only thing that you signed up for is a _superb_ lover," Fitz told her with great seriousness but stumbling over his words. His stutter was starting to show. "I can guarantee that had I ever g-gone further with a girl than p-polite conversation, I would... I would b-be an absolute _god_..."

"Okay, Fitz, I'm sure you're just wonderful," Luna reassured him. He had suddenly become almost a dead weight, leaning very heavily on her left shoulder, but at the same time was veering off towards the side of the hallway.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm just taking you to the Hospital Wang," she explained patiently, guiding him up yet another flight of stairs. She couldn't help but wish that the Hospital Wing was a lot closer to the Entrance Hall...

"Oh... okay." He seemed confused. "Have you hurt yourself?"

"Sshh, just be quiet."

"Where are we g-going?"

She didn't bother to answer, despite his persistent, slurred and stuttered desperation to find out where she was snatching him away to. He seemed terribly concerned that she was kidnapping him and at one point tried to escape her evil clutches – but thankfully for her, immediately overbalanced and almost head-butted a wall.

Luna twisted sideways to see how far the Hospital Wing was. She could see it in the near distance and she wished desperately that it could magically move closer.

_**And there, on the third floor, exactly where Harry had said it would be, was a door. She couldn't remember it ever having been there before... it was as though it had simply appeared out of nowhere. She knocked lightly – two short knocks, one long, two more short – and then pushed through. The room within was spacious, filled with chattering students starting to feebly practice expelliarmus.**_

"_**That's really good," Harry said encouragingly, and the whole room crackled with excitement and revolution.**_

She shook her head, trying to clear her brain. At the moment she just had to focus on getting Fitz to Madame Jones in one piece.

"Where are we gooooooing?" Fitz whined, pushing the side of his face roughly into her neck.

Finally the duo stumbled through the doors to the Hospital Wing like an ungainly four-legged leper and almost collapsed. Madame Jones looked up from a small, skinny figure that she was treating in a bed nearby and a look of shock crossed her face.

"Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "Not Mr. Sinclair again... alright, thank you, just put him down on one of them there beds. I'll be right with you."

Luna eased Fitz down onto the nearest bed, shifting him so that he wouldn't be constantly in danger of rolling off and injuring himself further. He blinked up at her with the appearance of someone who had been asleep for ten years. "Where are we going?" he asked feebly.

"We're there now," Luna said softly, smoothing a crease in the wool of his robes. He made a funny animal noise in the back of his throat, pushing back against her hand. "We're at the Hospital Wing now. Do you remember falling down? Yeah... sshhh... you hit your head, Fitz."

His eyes were heavy-lidded but he spoke with complete sincerity and conviction. "I would be really, really good in bed. I swear."

Unfortunately for them both, as he said that, Madame Jones chose to appear behind Luna. She gave them both an odd look but apparently decided that it wasn't worth pursuing. "Right, out of the way please. I'll take care of this now." She jostled Luna out of the way and Fitz slumped away as Luna's comforting fingers slipped away.

Luna wasn't really sure what to do with herself. She watched for a few seconds as Madame Jones poked and prodded the back of Fitz' head, but then she glanced around at the rest of Hospital Wing. Then, in a flash, she recognised the tiny figure to whom the matron had been tending before she and her silly Gryffindor turning up with a crash and a bang.

It was little Timothy Harper – the Slytherin second-year she'd been speaking to in the Charms detention.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, making her way over to him. "Are you alright?"

He didn't seem to notice her presence until she was right beside him – then he jumped like spooked. Both of his arms were in thick casts, clunking heavily every time he moved, but the greatest damage was in his huge eyes, haunted like bruises. "What are you doing here?" he asked shakily, beginning to breathe hard. He wouldn't look at her. "I don't want to talk to you."

"What's wrong?" Luna asked, feeling a wave of concern rush over her. "What happened to you?"

Timothy Harper's every breath was coming out in shuddering jerks. "Please..." he whispered brokenly. "Please just go away. Please just go away."

"Timothy, what's wrong?" she persisted gently. "It's okay to tell me... I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Tears were welling up in his eyes. "I... I... I fell down the stairs," he said, and with this he broke down, sobbing inconsolably. "I fell down the stairs. I fell down the stairs. I fell down the stairs and it was all my fault. I fell down the stairs." He curled into himself, huddled in the foetal position beneath a mound of blankets. "Please go away... Please_, please_ leave me alone..."

Feeling as though she was going to be sick, Luna could do nothing but back away, hugging her arms tightly around her stomach. Out of a sense of friendship and duty to Fitz, she stayed in the Hospital Wing to wait for him to finish being treated, but she continued to hear Timothy Harper crying for hours.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Tom Riddle was late. Again.

It seemed that he could never be on time anywhere – he just liked to swagger in at the last moment with the air of someone who'd been dropping in at a hundred urgent meetings and just saved the life of a kitten in the past hour. Luna was waiting for him outside the Headmaster's office for the first of many monthly updates on how the school was faring under their reign.

A meeting which should have started five minutes ago.

Much to her annoyance, she had to wait for him. If they turned up late together, it was perfectly acceptable for some reason, but one person after the other was an appalling idea to Headmaster Dippet. And so Luna was waiting.

Just as she was growing impatient and was actually considering abandoning Tom to his fate, he came strolling around the corner, his robes snapping at his heels and a thin spiral of smoke twisting up from the stumpy cigarette between his fingers.

"Tom, put that out," she said, feeling her face grow hot with anger. She glanced about quickly to see if anyone had seen him. "For Merlin's sake, you're supposed to be a good influence on the younger years."

She stalked towards him, intending to snatch the cigarette from him and throw it away as she had that first Prefect meeting, but instead he neatly side-stepped her. He took a long drag on the tiny stump and blew smoke gently into her face. "I am the _only _influence on the younger years," he replied, his voice low and challenging. With that, he tossed the cigarette aside, letting it smoulder on the floor, pushed past her so that their shoulders crashed and all the papers in her arms cascaded the floor, and headed up to Dippet's office.

Luna's jaw dropped. How _dare_ he! She quickly stamped out the embers sparkling on the flagstones, before waving over it with a hasty "_evanesco_". The cigarette butt and ash all disappeared in a flash. She fumed as she hurried to gather up all her important papers.

Recently, Tom Riddle had taken a nasty turn. She had no idea why but since the beginning of October, he had been positively foul to her and she couldn't stand it. Of course, she was perfectly used to people treating her badly but she wouldn't take it from Tom. This was different. He wasn't teasing her because she was odd. He was making her life difficult because she had challenged his stupid little way of life. He thought that he was so important and she was going to make him realise that he wasn't, even if it killed her.

Breathless from scrambling on the floor and then running up the flight of stairs, Luna burst into Dippet's office looking most bedraggled. Tom was already seated, leaning casually on one arm; he looked up at her with a smirk. Professor Dippet folded his arms as she moved forwards, his expression displeased.

"Miss Christopher, do try to be on time," Dippet said coldly. "I have a busy schedule, you know, and I do not appreciate the assumption of students that they can swan in at any time of their choosing. You are _seven minutes late_. It's frankly unacceptable. Terrible."

Luna was speechless. Tom spoke up for her.

"Don't worry, sir," he said with gratuitous politeness. "I'll keep a better eye on her. I know how important it is for the new ones to have an excellent _influence_ in their lives..." He cast a sharp look out of the corner of his eye. "Especially if they don't know how the school system operates."

She could do nothing but stand there, staring at him as though she'd had a blow to the head.

"Oh, Tom, it's ever so good to see you looking out for Miss Christopher. I know she must be finding Hogwarts difficult. Wonderful. Just brilliant." Dippet looked expectantly up at her. "Well, sit down."

Luna dropped onto the hard-backed chair, throwing Tom a hurt look from under her hair when Dippet was looking. He pretended not to have seen. Luna then tried to arrange her collection of parchment to find the most important bits. "I have here the Michaelmas term Prefect rota," she said, handing it over to the Headmaster after shuffling for a while, "and I even included little notes on their performances in the margin... just in case you wanted to use that for deciding the next Head Boy or Head Girl." She waited a beat for him to look that over before giving him the next. "This one is our proposal for this term's entertainment. We were thinking of having a dance on New Year's Eve for the seniors of the school and the younger ones could have a really nice New Year's dinner with live music and so on – and maybe a dance competition? Either way, it's all written down there..."

Professor Dippet _mm-_ed and _aah_-ed over everything that she presented him with, glancing each leaf of parchment over before settling on his desk. "I see. That sounds as though it should be fine... of course, I'll have to read over everything that you've proposed and meet again..."

"Don't forget the complaints," Tom threw out tonelessly.

"Yes, very good, Tom – what were the complaints?" Dippet pushed.

Luna scowled at her partner. She was competent, _thank you very much..._ She sat up straighter and read off the list in front of her. "We were wondering about moving the portrait of the Fat Lady away from the stairs as a few people have hurt themselves. I worked out that if we simply switched it with the portrait of the baby playing in a pond, then the problem would be solved. Also we should change the password into the kitchens as some students have been sneaking in there for snacks." She glanced down at the rest of her list. "Those are the main things but there are some other small matters written here which we could deal with ourselves if you agreed."

"Well done," Tom said as she leaned over to put the rest of the papers on Dippet's desk. She whipped around to stare at him. He was _smiling_. Of course, it was completely fake and she could see the mocking dark challenge glinting his eyes but it was just... he was almost unrecognisable. That simple gesture softened all the sharp edges and corners of his features. Little crinkles pulled in beside his eyes and he looked quite friendly. Sweet, even.

It almost seemed a shame that he wasn't her type.

"It's lovely to see that you two are getting along so well," Dippet said, suddenly dragging her back to reality. "Just lovely. For a while I was concerned that you might conflict and bicker, you know, but it's clear that you are fast friends."

Luna's mouth tightened slightly. She would consider that she and Tom _were _quite close – when he wasn't deliberately making a mockery of her existence, or knocking her books onto the floor, or trashing the Common Room because he knew that she couldn't live in filth and would be forced to clean it all up, or even just shifting his facial expression to the same kind of stupid smile that evidently had all the girls in the school swooning where he wanted them so that he could put big black bruises on their throats... She didn't say any of this. She simply said, "Yes, sir."

"Oh – and Miss Christopher, that just reminds me... have you remembered anything?" Dippet asked, peering at her over the tops of his wide horn-rimmed glasses.

She nodded enthusiastically, delighted to be able to show him that she was improving. "Yes – I'm remembering lots now. Things about my family, and the house where I live... things like that. Little things... but I'm making a lot of progress, I think." She beamed.

"Excellent. Marvellous." Dippet scrawled something on a scrap piece of parchment on the corner of his desk. "Have you made any decisions about what you're going to do when the rest of your memory comes back? I know that Professor Dumbledore was under the impression that you would be leaving shortly but you're perfectly welcome to stay with us if you feel-"

"Excuse me."

Both Luna and Professor Dippet looked around at Tom in surprise.

He was no longer slouching back in his chair but sitting rigid as though electrocuted, and there was no trace of that baby smile in his icy features. Every line and cut of his face was harsh and unforgiving. "I apologise for interrupting, Headmaster, but... _what?"_ Tom now turned his blazing, endless eyes on Luna – dark with fire and accusations. She had never seen him so angry.

"Whatever do you mean, Tom?" Dippet asked.

"_What_," he ground out through gritted teeth, every word venomous, "is _happening_?" He fired a narrow-eyed glare at Luna. "Memory? Improving? _Leaving_?"

She tilted her head. "I lost my memory in the summer," she said lightly, trying the ignore the static buzzing through every nerve ending in her body. "I have no idea who I am or what I'm doing here. I've told you that a hundred times."

Tom's jaw tightened. His brow creased in the middle as he stared intently at her, as though he believed that if he stared at her long and hard enough, then everything would become clear. "You've also told me about hunting the Umgubular Slashkilter," he finally snapped. "I didn't believe you."

"Well, then I apologise if your own scepticism has inconvenienced you," she said calmly.

For a few seconds he did not speak. A vein throbbed in his throat; he swallowed, hard, several times. Luna merely watched him, waiting for the words that he seemed to be struggling with.

"Are you alright?" she eventually asked, worry lacing her voice. No matter how horrid he had been to her recently, she didn't like to see him like this.

"Headmaster, I apologise for my behaviour. Has this meeting been adjourned?" Tom's voice was strangled.

Professor Dippet was also watching his Head Boy with mounting concern. "Yes, I suppose... if there is nothing else to be said..."

Tom ripped roughly from his chair and stalked out down the stairs. He ignored the farewell that Dippet called after him. He left his schoolbag behind.

"Oh dear," said Luna pensively. "I hope I haven't done anything to upset him." She picked up his heavy schoolbag, hoping to run after him. However, his papers and books were stuffed in quite haphazardly – of course he would show no respect for his belongings – and a few fell out.

Two words jumped out at her.

_Mortiferam vestigio._

Luna frowned. _Murder trace?_ Whatever was _that _supposed to mean? She shrugged, knowing that it wasn't really her business, and stuffed the wad of parchment back into Tom's bag. She gathered it all up in her arms and, with a quick, grateful goodbye to Professor as well as an assurance that she wouldn't be going anywhere yet, hurried off down the stairs after Tom.

Unfortunately he'd had a couple of seconds head-start so by the time Luna reached the corridor, he was already gone. She checked the dead cricket hanging around her neck; its limbs were hanging at thirty-five degree angles, which meant that it was getting close to eight.

She huffed, readjusting the pile of rubbish in her arms, and headed back towards the Head common room. Untidy, rude and antisocial he may be, but Tom Riddle was a man of routine. On normal evenings when there weren't any meetings with the Headmaster, he had dinner at Slytherin table, showered at eight and then usually went out to a Slytherin party or some other social event at about nine to nine-thirty. As his routine had been slightly distorted by the Head meeting, he would probably be returning to the Head common room to get washed.

As it was getting late, she met no-one in the hallways on her way there, save for Andrew Veitch, the Ravenclaw Prefect who was doing the patrols of the castle that evening. She checked that he had indeed seen Tom going back this way, wished him luck with his patrol and continued on her way.

The instant that she began climbing the steps up from the door to the Head common room, she knew that it was bad. She remembered the mess that Tom had made that one time when she had been out late in the Gryffindor common room and grimaced.

She could hear crashes and bangs from upstairs.

Luna pushed on, determined to calm him down. She emerged into a room where Tom was crashing about like a runaway train – in one fluid swipe, he took all the books of one shelf and kicked the coffee table back against the wall. There was no explanation, no words, just a silent, all-consuming fury that revealed itself in explosions of furniture-destruction. And then he turned and buried his fist into the wall.

At first the crunch and snap of his knuckles was so horrifying that she couldn't react.

Then, as he continued, smashing the hole in the wall deeper and more ragged, blood leaving sprays and smears on the dark wallpaper, it became evident that he wasn't going to stop until he broke every bone in his body.

"Tom!" she cried, jerking into action. "Stop that!" She ran a few paces towards him; however, as soon as he heard her voice, he froze, looking up to stare at her, and his eyes were so black and unrecognisable that she stopped. She couldn't have moved any closer even if she'd wanted to.

"You..." he ground out, his voice so low that she would not have even realised that he had spoken, had she not seen his lips move.

Suddenly he was storming across the room towards her, carelessly smashing a fallen stool out of his way with a well-placed kick that took off a chair-leg – and then he was there in front of her, taller than she could ever remember him being, breathing so hard that his shoulders spasmed in great shudders – and grabbed hold of her face in one hand so hard that she felt her jaw would be crushed like match-wood. All of the air rushed out of her lungs at the force of it; Tom flinched as her breath fanned, hot with alarm, over his face, so close to hers that she could see every rise and fall of his sharp cheekbones.

"How dare you – how _dare _you-" he snarled, pressing his forehead tightly against hers like she was keeping him standing. "- after all I've _done_ – after all I've _accomplished – _you little _bitch_, you... you will not change _anything_-"

Luna stared up at him. She could feel her cheeks beginning to swell and ache as he gripped her like a life-line. She found her eyes wide, transfixed by the muscles tight in his jaw and shoulders, the enraged twitch of his pale, enchanting fingers – and more than anything, the scorching darkness of his empty eyes. For the first time, Luna realised – and really _realised_ – that with the long, lean stretch of his body and that impenetrable, rattling darkness locked up inside his skull... Tom Riddle was a strange, sinister, spidery kind of beautiful.

"You forgot your school-bag," she said softly.

His eyebrows dragged together, completely thrown off. "What?" he snapped.

"Your school-bag," she repeated, breathing slowly. She blamed head-rush for the blood beating dizzyingly through her ears. "You left Dippet's office in such a hurry that you forgot it."

Tom let her face go immediately. He snatched his bag out of her hands and hurled it to one side, not even watching to see where it landed. He took a few steps backwards away from her and dug deeply into his pockets; he fished out a pack of cigarettes but fumbled with getting one out. One hand was completely mutilated, blood dripping down his fingers and Luna even though that she might have glimpsed something white and jagged protruding through the skin. Tom didn't seem to care at all that he'd destroyed his knuckles – he didn't even seem to notice the pain – but he was growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to grab a cigarette.

Normally, Luna would have left him to it, disapproving strongly of his tobacco habit but she felt sorry for him. "Do you want me to do it?" she asked gently.

"_I will not be weak_!"

"You know, I hate to point out this obvious but walls are built stronger than you are," she told him, moving across to him. "I can help if you-"

"I don't need help," he growled.

"You clearly do, Tom-"

"I don't need your pity either," he snarled, turning his back on her just as he successfully found a cigarette. It lit instantly, wordlessly. Even when he was near-overwhelmed with emotion and broken hands, his magic was impressively powerful. "Just... get out of my sight," he muttered.

Luna set her jaw. "Fine," she said, frowning. If he was going to be so sour and miserable, then she would let him stew. "I'll leave you alone... but that means you're cleaning up this common room by yourself and if it isn't done by ten, then I will take over cleaning _with your face_ – and I'll have you know that I'm not particularly fussy as to whether or not it's still attached to your head. I do not care if you've broken your hand, Tom Riddle, I will not tolerate your mess."

He did not answer her.

With a sigh at his reticence, she shifted her book-bag on her shoulder. "Goodnight," she said suggestively, trying – and failing - to provoke a response from him. She swiftly realised that she would have no such luck and crossed the room to the stairs. However, with one foot on the bottom step, she found the words that she knew would work. "Tom?" she called, glancing back at him. "By the way... I'm not going anywhere."

Upon hearing this, Tom became very still. His chin twisted slightly towards one shoulder as though he was considering turning back to say something. She waited but he did no such thing. He slowly looked away towards the distant bay window again and in that moment, she had never seen him so human.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

**Sorry for how overly-intense this chapter was; I had a lot to fit in... Melodrama will be more evenly spread out in future, I promise.**


	13. Warning Signs

**A/N: **Oh hayyy. I'm very ill today and I am not a happy bunny... still, that's given me a lot of time to write! A few people were a bit confused about Tom's actions last chapter – that _is _the point, just saying. If Luna doesn't understand, neither do you. Some people were also quite worried about Fitz... and the answer is that he's perfectly fine. He just has a concussion, because he's a bit of a numpty. ALSO - I apologise for the massive re-cap at the start... it's just that so much happened last time. Anyway. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Thirteen: Warning Signs**

"_We're there now," Luna said softly, smoothing a crease in the wool of his robes. He made a funny animal noise in the back of his throat, pushing back against her hand. "We're at the Hospital Wing now. Do you remember falling down? Yeah... sshhh... you hit your head, Fitz."_

_Tears were welling up in Timothy Harper's eyes. "I... I... I fell down the stairs," he said, and with this he broke down, sobbing inconsolably. "I fell down the stairs. I fell down the stairs. I fell down the stairs and it was all my fault. I fell down the stairs." He curled into himself, huddled in the foetal position beneath a mound of blankets. "Please go away... Please, please leave me alone..."_

_Two words jumped out at her. __Mortiferam vestigio.__ Luna frowned. __Murder trace?__ Whatever was that supposed to mean? _

_Suddenly he was storming across the room towards her, carelessly smashing a fallen stool out of his way with a well-placed kick that took off a chair-leg – and then he was there in front of her, taller than she could ever remember him being, breathing so hard that his shoulders spasmed in great shudders – and grabbed hold of her face in one hand so hard that she felt her jaw would be crushed like match-wood. All of the air rushed out of her lungs at the force of it; Tom flinched as her breath fanned, hot with alarm, over his face, so close to hers that she could see every rise and fall of his sharp cheekbones._

"_How dare you – how dare you-" he snarled, pressing his forehead tightly against hers like she was keeping him standing. "- after all I've done – after all I've accomplished – you little bitch, you... you will not change anything-"_

"_Tom?" she called, glancing back at him. "By the way... I'm not going anywhere."He slowly looked away towards the distant bay window again and in that moment, she had never seen him so human._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

_**She moved unseen through the corridors, weaving between skulking dark figures and pale, twitchy shadows of the warriors she used to know. No-one paid any attention to her. She was just the crazy one who did some work for Miss Granger.**_

_**Suddenly a hand grabbed her elbow. "Hey Luna-"**_

_**Luna halted and looked up at the hollow eyes of Dean Thomas – as did everyone around them.**_

_**Touching was not permitted.**_

_**Speaking out of turn was not permitted.**_

_**Use of first-names by those without authority was not permitted.**_

"_**Please remove your hand, Mr. Thomas," Luna said, but gently. Dean had been through a lot. His memory was not the best. "Was there something that you wanted?"**_

_**Murmurs began quietly from the bodies around them; they attempted to look as though they were getting back to their usual business but dared not take their eyes from the exchange in the middle of corridor. Anything could happen.**_

_**Dean dropped his hand from her arm immediately. "Oh God – sorry – I... I forgot." He looked away from her, breathing hard as he realised what he had done. "I shouldn't speak to you either... but Mr. Macmillan insisted that it was imperative that you be let known that he wouldn't be able to... to..."**_

"_**To send Miss Granger her resources?" Luna offered, seeing his struggle.**_

_**Nodding, Dean looked as though he might say something else but at that moment, a voice roared and rattled through the corridor, igniting movement in the spectators. Dean began to shake violently with the booming approach and though Luna hated to leave him, she knew that it was her cue to go.**_

Luna awoke on the floor.

She didn't remember how she had got there but it was warm beneath her bare back; she must have fallen out of bed quite some time ago. She crawled with stiff limbs back into bed, using a flick of her wand and a whispered _"transmutus"_ to pull her curtains more tightly closed across the moonlight trickling through.

The clock was ticking two-thirty. She watched the hands swivel, counting rotations, but quickly lost count to sleep.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

On Tuesdays, Luna had third-period Arithmancy, and in Arithmancy lessons she sat next to Rosie. Today Rosie was not there. It seemed very strange; Rosie seemed to hate any minute that she missed when she could be interrogating her about her life, her memories, and what she knew of Tom Riddle. It was particularly aggravating on this particular day because Luna had questions for Rosie.

Namely, _why was Tom avoiding her?_

It wasn't as though she was upset by it – she'd had more than her fair share of people going out of their way to ignore her – but she felt that it may in some way have been connected with the angry, furniture-smashing confrontation they'd had last week in the Head common room. She had occasionally glimpsed him skulking about in corridors beyond her reach, or at breakfast; they'd shared one Potions lesson, but with one icy glance at her he'd departed before she could say anything to him. He even left his little gaggle of Slytherin friends behind in his urgency to get away from her. Today, however, she had not even seen him at breakfast and she hoped that he was okay.

Professor Noble came in, muttering under his breath, and threw his bag onto his desk into a growing heap of disorganised chaos. "The essays should be on my desk," he said loudly, interrupting himself. "Why aren't they here?"

"They are, sir," Luna piped up helpfully. "I think they might be lost under all the mess."

He shot her a withering look. "_Thank you_, Miss Christopher."

He began rummaging through the papers on his desk; it took him ten minutes to find them and another five to count them. There was, after all, a good reason why a lot of people joked that Arithmancy students would be better off teaching themselves.

While Noble busied himself, the students as usual either started going through the textbooks by themselves or messing around with their friends. Luna gazed absent-mindedly through the near window. The leaves were nearly all gone from the trees, leaving spindly jagged branches like snatching fingers. The sky was a clear, sterile blue but this late in October that meant cold. Luna shivered excitedly, thinking of the weeks ahead of snow and scratchy woollen jumpers and warm fireplaces. It would be lovely and-

"Miss Veitch, where is your essay?"

Professor Noble's nasal voice cut through Luna's daydream. She looked forwards to see the Arithmancy Professor scowling at her. She wondered if he had mixed up their names or simply failed to see that the seat beside her was empty.

"She's not here today," Luna offered.

Noble removed his penny-glasses, wiped them with the raggedy corner of one sleeve, and then replaced them to squint at Luna. His brow furrowed further. "Well, where the devil is she?" he snapped, at least seeming to recognise who Luna was. "She should be handing in her essay on the influence of the Stremgorf method in Frederick Tatou's discovery of the laws of Apparation!"

Luna shrugged, not sure else what she could say. It turned out that she didn't really need to as Professor Noble continued to angrily rant for quite some time, satisfied with the sound of his own voice for conversation.

"This is the third today," he grumbled, stomping back to his desk. "Tom Riddle and Helena Selwyn missing from first-period... now Rosie Veitch... it's ridiculous. It is simply unacceptable – one would think that they didn't want to learn anything."

Someone snickered at the back of the room. It was basically unanimous that no-one thought that they learnt anything anyway.

Suddenly Professor Noble's eyes focused on Luna again. "Say, you're Head Girl, are you not?" he said. His voice sounded accusatory, as though by being Head Girl she had committed some great wrong. "You see Mr. Riddle, don't you?"

"Yes. We live together."

Noble began dragging desk-drawers out and emptying them onto the desktop, which only made the mess worse, but eventually did find the stack of papers that he was looking for. He folded them roughly in half with some difficulty due to the thickness of the parchment and then threw it in Luna's direction. His throw fell short. Luna scrambled to retrieve it as he told her to give them to her quoted '_that dear foolish boy'_ and get it all out of his hair.

Only once all of these problems had been resolved did it seem that Professor Noble was able to get on with teaching the lesson and, albeit grumpily, teach he did. With a flick of his wand and the _Apecia _spell, numbers, symbols and equations began to appear on the dusty blackboard in quick succession. Some of the class knuckled down to working out the answers; others continued to mess around, oblivious of anything else going on around them. Luna set to work. Aside from Herbology, Arithmancy was her favourite subject for the probably rather depressing reason that it didn't require interpretation or creativity of her own ideas; no matter what happened, two plus two was four and the law of Estragon would always destroy Patronus boundaries. Arithmancy simply was.

For the first time in a long time, Luna was able to work undisturbed by Rosie's questioning and finished the work before the end of the lesson, greatly reducing how much work she'd have to do. She set off from Arithmancy feeling confident about the rest of the day - she didn't have any homework assignments so far, there had been lots of bacon at breakfast, and she had found evidence of a site where dirigible plums might have grown once. The only problem was where in the name of Merlin was Tom? The need to find him was even more urgent now that she had been given some homework for him.

As she was already on the sixth floor, it would probably be best to go up to the Head common room and leave Tom's work there... that way, even if he was avoiding her, he would see what she had delivered to him. It also eliminated the issue of perhaps losing it, since she'd misplaced her lucky Kneazle foot

"Adminitio," she said dreamily, tapping rhythms out on her arms as she waited for the stone wall to slide open

Strangely, the air in the Head common room was thick with perfume.

"Hello?" Luna called, frowning. She didn't remember it smelling like this when she left this morning.

She began to cross the room to the grand table but before she even reached the sofas, footsteps began to come lightly down the stairs. Luna spun on the spot to speak to Tom but instead found herself faced with none other than the elusive Rosie Veitch, her lips shining freshly with her signature red stain

"Rosie!" Luna exclaimed. "What are you doing here?

"The same as you, I suspect - looking for Riddle," Rosie said coolly. She seemed more aloof than unusual but still bestowed a charming smile on Luna, patting her fringe into place. Tweaking the ends of her hair lifted it, revealing the beginnings of several dark, swelling blotches below her ear. "I couldn't find him though...

"Oh." Luna's eyes flickered to the bruises forming on her throat. Somehow that seemed unlikely. "Professor Noble was really annoyed that you weren't the lesson," she said distractedly, fiddling with the folded papers in her hands. "He wants your essay in."

"Whatever. I have more important things to worry about than the stupid Stremgorf method," Rosie said dismissively. She strode over to the mirror hung by the entrance into the common room and stared back at her reflection almost like she was challenging it to defy her. She subtly tugged her shirt-collar higher up her neck."I have bigger plans than silly Arithmancy.

"Like what?" Luna asked, perching on the arm of the cracked leather sofa and swinging her legs below her

Rosie glanced at her, yellow-green eyes flashing like a warning. "It's terribly complicated and I would hate to bore you with my stories," she said sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes. "As it is, I have to be off. I have things I need to oversee, people to speak to." She reached out to brush a stray hair from over Luna's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I feel as though we haven't been spending much time together recently - and you know I do so want to be close friends." She fixed Luna with an intense, glowing look. "We are good friends, aren't we, Luna?

Luna's face lit up. "Yes, definitely," she said enthusiastically, nodding. She was fitting in so well here - it was just perfect. She wished she could have always had such a good friend like Rosie.

"Good girl."

Rosie smiled again and then, adjusting her book-bag on her shoulder, left swiftly, pausing at the bottom of the stairs out to the seventh-floor corridor only to blow a kiss back. Luna waved wildly back

It was curious how even though Rosie had said that she had not been able to find Tom upstairs, Luna could distinctly hear movement through the ceiling.

"Hello?" she called again, straining towards the wooden stairs.

No-one answered.

She left her school-bag on the sofa, intending to retrieve it on her way out, and mounted the steps up to Tom's bedroom. As she neared the top of the stairs, the sounds of his quiet movements were amplified and Luna couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Rosie was the one who wasn't very bright and may need help if she wasn't able to detect Tom's presence. She paused on the top step and knocked lightly before entering

"Hello?" she said again, peeking around the corner of the door, and there, of course, she found Tom.

He was standing by the window; shirt crinkled and untucked, neatly looping the ends of his tie around. He looked up at her, unsurprised by her presence. His expression was as apathetic and distant as ever. "Christopher."

"I've been calling you for ages, Mr. Rude," she said absent-mindedly, drumming against the wood of the door. "Would it have hurt to answer?"

"Forgive me. I must have been... _otherwise occupied._" Tom threw her a glance with one corner of his mouth lifted. If his eyes hadn't been so disinterested, she would have said that he looked rather pleased with himself.

Luna pushed forwards into the room as Tom finished knotting his tie and she deemed him decent, though she could see the tips of his fuzzy-socked toes poking from beneath his pressed school trousers."Rosie said that she couldn't find you up here either."

"Well. She can't have tried very hard..."

It was almost insulting how casual he seemed – as though he was completely skipping over the fact that he had been ignoring her for a week.

"Perhaps you were hiding in the closet," Luna said thoughtfully and at this, Tom threw a dark, suspicious look. She had no idea what he seemed to believe she was implying but he didn't look happy. "Anyway – Professor Noble wanted me to give you your homework, as you weren't in his lesson this morning."

She held up the leaves of parchment and then moved across the room to set them on his desk. However, she saw to her horror that his desk was almost as catastrophically untidy as that of the Professor in question. Paper was thrown everyone, scribbles gliding in sharp, scratchy lines from one scrap to another as though oblivious of separate pieces.

"Goodness, Tom," she exclaimed. "This is obscene." She tucked his essay work into her arm-pit and set about trying to tidy the papers into orderly piles. Words jumped out at her from the mess but they were words, phrases, incantations that she didn't understand. She ignored them; she wasn't particularly interested in any aspect of them expect for the messiness.

Tom pushed roughly in front of her. He hit her with his shoulder and she stumbled back from the desk, eyes flying wide with surprise at his unusual lack of grace. She didn't speak – just watched, frowning open-mouthed, as he snatched the essay from her and threw it onto his desk, shoving all the papers back out of sight.

"Just... leave it all alone," he snapped back at her over one shoulder.

"Sorry," said Luna, worried that she'd struck a nerve. "Is it a diary? I didn't mean to mix up all your thoughts and feelings." She tapped one foot and then shifted to stand like a teapot, which always made her feel more balanced when she wasn't sure what to say. "If you like, you can tell me your thoughts and feelings," she offered. "It would be a lot tidier than your desk, as well."

Tom stiffened, still leaning over his desk. For a moment they were both silent – him staring down at the scarcely-visible surface of his desk, Luna staring at the rigid, uncomfortable lines of his shoulders and back. Then, finally, he spoke... and they were the words that Luna had least expected to hear.

"Thank you." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "For the homework."

Luna blinked, surprised. She tilted her head sideways as a curious smile lit up across her face. "Why, I think that's the first time you've ever said that to me," she said.

Pushing himself off his desk, Tom twisted to face her. "It could be interpreted as a little obsessive that you notice," he told her, one eyebrow lifting mockingly.

She folded her arms across her chest. "It's actually very noticeable when you're quite so rude all the time."

Tom's eyes glinted smugly. "Make your excuses." As he said this, he also folded his arms.

Luna propped one foot sideways to make her teapot-stance more exaggerated, wondering if he would copy that too. Maybe it was a game that she hadn't realising they were playing. "I'll make my excuses as you make yours."

"_What_ excuses?" he said icily.

"Tom Riddle, have you been avoiding me?"

For a few seconds, it seemed as though Tom did not have anything to say to this. He merely stared at her, jaw jutting out defiantly. Then he gave a cold, derisive laugh, shaking his head down at the floor. "Oh, Christopher," he sneered. "Don't flatter yourself. I hardly care about anyone – much less _you _– enough to give a damn whether I see them."

"I see." Luna gazed calmly back at him, unflinching.

Tom's eyes slowly lifted back to hers, dark and hollow as ever, but there was something somewhere that was different. "What?"

Luna's nose crinkled thoughtfully. "You disappoint me."

"Did you think I was a hero?"

"No... I rather thought you were a human being."

At this, Tom's expression hardened and she again saw a flash of what she had seen in his face last week in the Head common room. She thought that he might try to grab her face again or at the very least shout at her, but all he said was: "That was a mistake."

She shrugged her shoulders lightly, uncrossing her legs and taking a few steps back. "Evidently." She paused beside the door, resting one hand lightly on the green silken wallpaper. "Mind you," she added dreamily, "that's not to say that it isn't worth a try."

Tom tore his eyes away from her, crossing to the window to pull on his outer school-robes. He didn't even bother giving her a reply so she didn't bother to elaborate that she had a lesson to go to now and that she would see him later. She merely left him as he also had left her – in silence.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**


	14. Incontinuity

**A/N: **Hello there! Sorry it's a bit late... I have exams coming up now so the next chapter might be delayed as well. I'm also working on some things because as usual my attention span is appalling. Anyway. As I usually say, this is clearly AU and I disclaim that it's not my own. Enjoy!

**Ultimatum**

**Chapter Fourteen: Incontinuity**

_Rosie glanced at her, yellow-green eyes flashing like a warning. "It's terribly complicated and I would hate to bore you with my stories," she said sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes. "As it is, I have to be off. I have things I need to oversee, people to speak to." She reached out to brush a stray hair from over Luna's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I feel as though we haven't been spending much time together recently - and you know I do so want to be close friends." She fixed Luna with an intense, glowing look. "We are good friends, aren't we, Luna?_

"_No... I rather thought you were a human being."_

_At this, Tom's expression hardened and she again saw a flash of what she had seen in his face last week in the Head common room. She thought that he might try to grab her face again or at the very least shout at her, but all he said was: "That was a mistake." Tom tore his eyes away from her, crossing to the window to pull on his outer school-robes. He didn't even bother giving her a reply so she didn't bother to elaborate that she had a lesson to go to now and that she would see him later. She merely left him as he also had left her – in silence._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

So far, the book had proved absolutely worthless.

Luna snapped it close with a heavy sigh. It was the twenty-seventh of October, just under a month since Vivian Prewett had given her the book on Karawan Divination, and she'd read it three by this point. Each time she had scrutinised every word of every page, hoping to find some new light. However, much to her annoyance... nothing. All that it had told her was, in great detail, how to summon protective demons that would hide you from being watched or potentially controlled. It had brought with it no more flashbacks either.

There was nothing for it. Perhaps the book was just... a distraction. A red herring. She may as well have remembered picking up the Tales of Beedle the Bard, for all that good it had done her.

She rolled over on her bed to look at the loudly-ticking clock on her bedside table. It was nearing midnight.

Luna had always intended to secretly slip the Karawan book into the Restricted Section in the night. Vivian had impressed upon Luna the urgency of ensuring that no-one found out that they had it in case they got in trouble, and Luna hoped to minimise the risks by returning it in the dead of night. The only people out would be the prefects on patrol – it was the Slytherins' shift tonight – and, of course, Tom. He was yet again out all hours at a party... though he should be coming home soon as well.

_And_ she'd thought of a way to do it as well.

Kicking off her fluffy slippers and sliding her feet instead into her school shoes, Luna quickly prepared to go. She stowed the Karawan book neatly into her bag, behind some essays that she'd forgotten to take out – just in case she was stopped – and threw her robes around her. Then she locked both her bedroom door and the door to the adjoining bathroom before straining against the heavy bookcase. It slid across, revealing the stone staircase, twisting away downwards into cold and darkness. She quickly checked that she had her Head Girl master key. Yes – everything was secure.

She moved off silently into the gloom.

The third-floor corridor at the bottom of the stairs was darker than shadows but she followed the glint of stars on window-panes. Her greatest concern was that she be careful not to miss the turning for the stairs up to the library.

Luna liked the dark. She didn't understand why some people were scared of it. She enjoyed the idea of the intrigue that something might be hiding in darkened corners – who were they? Why were they there in the dark? Why had they felt the need to hide from her and, surely, in that case she then had the upper hand? She liked the way that her breath sounded like secrets and whispers in the hush, and the way her footsteps clicked on flagstones.

The double-doors into the library were heavy when Luna unlocked them using her Head Girl master-key. She let the door close quietly behind her and made sure that it was tight before she lit her wand-tip. "_Lumos_." The light gleamed faintly from the polished wooden surfaces. Weaving between the bookcases, she made her way towards the heavy iron gate into the Restricted Section. Beyond that point, all the books looked dusty and tired with the forbidden ideas they were smothering in their pages. Luna wanted to read every single one... but of course she didn't have time.

She pushed a little deeper into the rows of bookshelves, wandering dreamily through the cobwebs. She could hide the book on Karawan anywhere that she wanted and be out of here, but she wanted to linger for a while. Her fingertips danced across every spine and title, reading the few that jumped out at her. Others were in Ancient Runes or foreign languages that she wished she understood. _Babgabi laca... Solomon Magicka... Mortiferam vestigio..._

Luna blinked. She knew that last one.

She drew the book out from its place on the shelf. It was thick, bound in what had once been leather but was now as thin as paper and crinkled badly. Luna remembered having seen the words on a piece of paper that had fallen out of Tom's bag. Perhaps he would appreciate having this book to help whatever school project he had been researching the '_murder trace'_ for.

Luna flipped gingerly to the first page, holding her wand aloft over it. The glare was too strong though and rendered the faint quill scratches illegible. She would simply have to take it back to her dormitory, where she could read it in a softer light and maybe even take care of the book so that it was in better shape for the next reader.

She tucked the book titled _Mortiferam vestigio_ into her schoolbag and slid the Karawan book back into the space on the shelf that it had left behind. The slight creaking sound it made sounded loud and ominous; she cast one last longing look around the Restricted Section before hurrying out, back through the gate and through the doors, locking it all behind her in the darkness of her extinguished wand.

However, fast as she moved through the gloom, she had not yet even reached the turning for the stairs before a voice called out behind her.

"Hey, who is that?"

Luna considered simply bolting. She could run fast... but not with her school-bag, full of papers and this new heavy book. Her scheming turned out to be too late anyway; a bright light panned across the hall to fix her like a startled doe.

She lifted a hand in front of her eyes, her brow furrowing as her eyes smarted from the white glare. "Could you point that somewhere else, please?" she asked.

"Or you could shut the hell up," the voice snapped. As it grew closer, it became more familiar – Rabastan Lestrange. She relaxed slightly, remembering not only that he was a Prefect but also that tonight was the Slytherins' turn to patrol the castle. She caught a glimpse of his sallow face in the light as he demanded, "What are you doing out at this time of night?"

"I fancied going to the library," she replied honestly. "It's more peaceful at this time of the night."

"I hardly imagine the light would be any good," sneered a second voice.

"You seem to have conquered that problem fairly well. And while I recognise Rabastan, I don't seem know who _you _are... but I daresay you should be tucked in bed." She tilted her head challengingly.

The light dimmed and so she could see the two Slytherins advancing on her. She realised that the second was Rupert Carrow, a boy in her own year with a taste for the immature destruction of lovely things. It may have been Rabastan's wand-light reflecting from shiny lamps mounted on the walls, but for a moment there appeared to be a seedy glint in Carrow's eye. Pleasure.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Christopher," Carrow said. "I'll be right off to bed – but I'd hate to leave you here in the dark. We'll see you home safe before we get to our own common rooms. How about that?"

A small smile crept across Luna. It seemed frankly out-of-character for them to be so gentlemanly... but perhaps they had taken a change for the better. She told herself that there was no need to be suspicious and that everyone deserved a fresh start once in a while.

"Thank you," she said warmly. She walked towards them, holding out an arm for Carrow to take, in the same way that she'd seen so many pretty girls offer themselves to Slytherins. "You know where the Head common room is, don't you?"

"Yes, we do," Rabastan said quietly. Something seemed to be troubling him and he glanced quickly over his shoulder before taking Luna's other elbow and guiding her along the darkened hallways.

It was a shame that they didn't know about the secret passageway straight into her bedroom but she hardly wanted to be the one that told them. She was happy enough to make small-talk as they walked loudly – for they had no idea about stealth – through the castle.

At least, she was until they took a wrong turning.

"I thought you said that you knew where the Head common room was," Luna said dreamily. "Merlin only knows that Rabastan at least has been there countless times..."

She slowed down, looking back towards the junction where the sixth-floor corridor jutted off towards the North wing. Neither of the Slytherin boys slowed down to accommodate her and they pulled her brusquely forwards, almost dragging her off her feet.

"Oh – be careful," Luna frowned. "That might have hurt. You really have gone the wrong way though."

The Slytherins were not speaking now.

"Rabastan? Rupert?" she danced about, trying to free her arms from their grasps. "I think I'll be alright to get myself home now – thank you very much – but-"

Suddenly she was spun, the cracks in the stones beneath her tangling her feet in knots and causing her to over-balance. Her eyes flew wide but then she was pushed into a door, a large, sweaty hand clamping over her nose and mouth before she could so much as squeak.

"Not a sound," Carrow hissed.

_**Sinking onto the narrow bed, Ginny curled in on herself. She was shaking so violently that the bedstead rattled loudly against the wall and Luna put out a hand to steady her, lest the noise attract attention. Ginny wouldn't look up. There was something in her pride that wouldn't let Luna see the marks, the scratches, or the tears clinging to her eyelashes.**_

Luna stared back calmly into his eyes, focusing on her own steady pulse against his fleeting. His lips twisted into a smirk. His hot breath fanned over her cheeks and nose.

"_**Are you going to be alright?" Luna asked quietly, squeezing her friend's hand gently.**_

_**Ginny only said one thing – a refrain she repeated every time she came back trembling, bruised. "Don't tell Harry."**_

With his free hand, he twisted the brass handle beside her so that the door gave way into a small, darkened room.

Luna let herself drop backwards into the room like a dead-weight, taking him by surprise. He staggered as she fell out of his grip and then ducked past his flailing arms, pushing back through the doorway. She turned to make a run for it – she'd never been good in brawls like her other friends – but then suddenly Rabastan had filled the space in front of her.

She'd seen other people do it enough times. Could it really be that hard?

She balled her left hand into a tight little fist and swung.

Her knuckles glanced off his ear with little effect but a jarring along her arm that caught her off-balance – Rabastan grabbed her arm and twisted. The pain was greater than she had expected; her knees buckled, almost taking her to the floor.

"Oh, you _really _don't know how the school operates, do you, Blondie?" Rabastan said softly.

She looked up in time to see Rabastan make one sharp, quick movement and then there was a _crack_ that took her off her feet and crashing into the flagstones. Her book-bag tore open, scattering its contents all across the floor. Then-

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Both Rabastan and Carrow froze as footsteps came thundering down the darkened hallway. They exchanged a terrified glance and shrunk closer together.

Luna recognised Tom's snappish voice, his brisk gait. Her head still spinning from the slap, she tried to find the source of his voice.

"My Lord," Rabastan stammered. "I apologise – we were just-"

"Just making enough noise to wake the entire castle," Tom said icily. "I told you two to get back to Slytherin common room and out of my sight – and while I care exponentially little about your extracurricular activities, pray tell why you saw fit to completely ignore my orders?"

"There was a girl wandering about," Carrow said loudly, stepping away from Rabastan as though trying to wash his hands clean of him. "She had no business going for a walk at this time of night – we were merely going to... _punish _h-"

"Carrow," Rabastan hissed, glaring at him. In Tom's wand-light, Luna could see sweat gathering at his hair-line.

Tom did not seem to notice or care about this interaction. He turned, casting the white light the width of the corridor and catching her in it.

Luna, struggling to her feet, flinched back against the wall as the brightness stung tears to her eyes. She looked up, dizzy and bleary-eyed, to see Tom staring at her. He was too cast in shadows to discern anything of his face but he remained motionless and silent for several moments. Then, without the slightest change in expression, he turned on his heel back to face the two Slytherins, stepping close so that they backed against the wall.

"It was Carrow's idea, I swear-" Rabastan blurted out, blanching.

"Give me one good reason," Tom interrupted – his voice so low that it was barely audible, so soft and gentle that it chilled Luna to the bone more than any of his raging bouts of kamikaze anger, "why I shouldn't just destroy both of you now."

"I swear to God, I swear it was Carrow's idea-"

"Lestrange did it – I was just holding her – it was him, he was the one who slapped her-"

So quickly that had Luna blinked, she would have missed it, Tom's wand snapped up, pushing into the quivering soft skin where Rabastan's throat curved up to his chin. He gave a child-like whimper, shuddering with fear, and seemed as though he was about to cry.

"Please – _please _– don't, my Lord – I'm so sorry," he choked out.

"Don't!" Carrow cried out. Tom turned a cold, lethal gaze on the other boy. Carrow shrunk back against the wall, away from the fight. "I mean. I... I'm innocent, of course – I didn't hurt her – but... but I think you might be over-reacting. Just a tiny bit." Panic flared at his eyes at some response of Tom's that Luna could not see. "No – I don't mean that – I'm sorry, my Lord – but – but she's not marked! She isn't marked as one of yours – I thought you said that meant that we could-"

"The rules have changed," Tom ground out. He returned to level his gaze on Rabastan. "Lestrange, I want you to listen to me very carefully," he said coldly. "If you touch her again... I will end you. Do you understand?"

Rabastan didn't speak – just nodded desperately, tears welling up in his eyes.

Tom slowly lowered his wand, stowing it back inside his pocket. He looked over at Carrow, as though considering saying something to him. He seemed as though he might just walk away but then he suddenly struck out, landing a solid punch that smacked Carrow's head back against the wall with a sickening crack. As he drew back his fist like he was going to hit him again, Luna flew forwards, grabbing his elbow.

His eyes flashed to hers and for the first time she saw the rage that had built up there, raw and screaming like he could take down everyone around him laughing. A muscle twitched in his jaw and she realised that he was trembling.

"Stop it," she told him, holding his arm tightly even as he subconsciously jerked as though to wrestle away from her. "He didn't hurt me."

Tom's lips tightened. His other hand jumped halfway towards her face before falling limply to his side. "You're bleeding," he said quietly.

Carrow watched this interaction, incredulity playing openly across his face.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Luna said firmly. "I feel you've threatened them enough for now. I'll take fifty points from Slytherin... but I don't think they'll bother me again."

"They or _anyone else_," Tom snarled, twisting back to Carrow, eyes narrowed. "Now... pick up her books. Then get out my sight. And _this _time, if I come back down and find you still lurking in the dark, I will not be so kind."

Carrow slipped past Tom, scrambling on the floor for Luna's papers. She let go of Tom's arm and grabbed Carrow by the shoulder. "Forget about it," she said, suddenly concerned about her book on _Mortiferam vestigio_ being exposed. "I can do it myself. Just... get back to your dormitory." She grabbed all of her things and stuffed them heedlessly back into her bag, flicking her wand with a muttered "_Reparo"_ to make it whole again.

Together Rabastan and Carrow limped and staggered away down the hallway, muttering amongst themselves with fearful glances back at Tom. They disappeared rapidly into the darkness but the smell of their terror still lingered in the air.

As they grew further away, the two left behind grew more silent. Luna could feel Tom's eyes upon her. For some unfathomable reason, she couldn't face that shade of cold, hollow apathy that she knew he would be wearing; she deliberately took a long time sorting out the books in her bag. She could only delay for so long though and she straightened slowly, lifting her eyes to his.

"Thank you," she repeated. She watched as his gaze flickered over the length of her body in a way that she would have found unsavoury were in not for the tiny furrow between his eyebrows, like he was searching for something. Then he tore his eyes away, staring stonily into the darkness after Rabastan and Carrow. She studied the lines of his face for several seconds before adding, "It was very chivalrous of you to help me like that – even if you didn't want to."

"What do you mean – _even if I didn't want to_?" Tom threw out tonelessly. He wouldn't look at her.

"You didn't come here to look after me," Luna said pensively. "You came to tell them off for being disruptive. I don't think you ever planned to rescue me – and I don't know if you would have at all had you known I was here to begin with – but when it came down to it, you couldn't stop yourself."

Tom twisted to look at her. His eyes were hard. "What makes you think that you know anything?" he snapped.

Luna shrugged. "I could read it in your face." She shouldered her bag and turned away, walking a few steps away from him before cocking her head over one shoulder as if to say_, well – are you coming then?_

He followed but then stalked past her, remaining a couple of paces ahead all the way back upstairs. There was an unusual stiffness to his movements and it almost seemed that he was rusting over. It irritated her. As much as she liked to study people and think about what their gestures or actions said about them, that was _not_ what she was looking to get out of Tom at the moment.

"What rules have changed?" she asked, skipping to catch up with him.

"What?"

"_The rules have changed_. That's what you said to Carrow," Luna prompted. "What did you mean?"

"You should ask fewer questions."

"You should answer them," she countered. "Or at least a _few. _Are you aware that there's a fine line between enigmatic and just plain annoying?" She jabbed him in the arm with one finger, determined to gauge a reaction from him – positive or negative, she didn't really care.

Well, it worked.

Tom wheeled to fix her with a glare that froze her feet where they stood. "What do you want from me, Christopher?" he asked coldly.

"I want the truth." She tilted her chin up at him, defiant. "Why does everyone call you their _Lord_? Why does everyone feel the need to constantly remind me of my inferior position in a social hierarchy I know nothing about?"

"It's not important."

"Oh really? Because I have to say that as Head Girl, when fifth-years to whom I should be the _authority_ try to wrestle me into abandoned classrooms in the dead of night – I think that it's quite important, actually."

Tom's jaw tightened. He twisted his gaze away from hers, staring at the wall where a painted mermaid was making a great effort to pretend not to be listening to their conversation. When he spoke, his voice was rough and toneless. "I thought you said that they hadn't hurt you."

"They didn't." The broken eye-contact freed Luna and she continued marching back towards the Head common room, trusting Tom to follow behind her. "I would still like some answers though, please."

By this point they had reached the stone wall where the doorway would appear. Luna stretched out to touch it but Tom cut in front of her. He pressed one palm flat against the stone, leaning and looming over Luna. His presence made it impossible for Luna to get into the common room; she could do nothing more than look up at him, irritated and expectant.

"If, Merlin forbid, I give you one piece of advice this year and you _actually pay attention to it,_ let it be this," Tom said coldly, declining his head slightly so that their foreheads are almost touching. "It will do you no good to pry – stay out of my business."

Luna smelled the coppery tang of whiskey and old blood on the breath that fanned warm over her face. It was that, paired with the dark flash of Tom's eyes, that made her sway slightly and wonder which of the two tastes would be the more dominant. "And if I don't?" she challenged.

For some reason, he deemed this question to be beneath him. Tom pushed off the wall, straightening, and the door opened, password still unspoken. He merely cocked one eyebrow and headed up the stairs in front of her. It took Luna a moment to react and then she was bouncing up the steps after him, determined not to be cast off like a child too big for its boots.

"Tom!" she called before he disappeared to his bedroom for the night. "Wait! I got something for you in the library."

He didn't stop. He merely said boredly over his shoulder, "Leave it on the table. I'll get it tomorrow."

She carefully laid the _Mortiferam vestigio_ book down so that it was facing the right way – if it was the last thing Tom saw before he slept and the first thing when he woke up, well, that was just convenient, wasn't it? "Alright," she said. "I just thought it might be useful – for your project on murder traces and whatnot."

Now her words halted Tom in his tracks. He turned slowly, floorboards creaking underneath him like he had suddenly become ten stone heavier, borne down by the weight of his secrets cracking one by one. He stared at the book for a moment, two parts apathetic, one part rendered speechless, and when he eventually dragged his gaze back up to coolly meet Luna's, he had this expression like it might already be too late.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**


End file.
